


Prince's Feather

by FreckledSaint



Category: Frozen (2013), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But the focus will be on Hans/Eugene don't worry, Eventual Romance, Humor, M/M, OCs galore to fill up the void that disney created about Hans' background, Slow Burn, also semi-regular mentions of the Westergaard family & their servants, business partners to lovers, or at least what I can write of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 46,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSaint/pseuds/FreckledSaint
Summary: Before being sent off to Arendelle to attend Queen Elsa's coronation, Hans strikes a deal with the Continental thief locked up in the dungeons.





	1. Chapter 1

At midnight, once Maron and Brennan had finally retired to their chambers and Albert to his ladies, Hans made his way to the dungeons deep within Old Castle. The day was damp, the moon shining behind the clouds as Sitron gallopped outside the city. Old Castle was abandoned centuries past but King Harald V had it transformed into a prison. Before keeping criminals (alongside those unfairly judged) Old Castle was held by House Stenberg, an old dynasty killed off by Arendelle and its king at the time. Hans exhaled onto his hands, the air warming his cold hands as he rode Sitron through the secret entrance left by the Stenbergs themselves. He left his horse by the entrance and promised him as many apples as he'd like if he remains quiet and docile in his absence. He nuzzled his hand and Hans couldn't help but smile. 

Walking down the bowels of the long forsaken stronghold had its upsides and downsides. Of course, the halls were cold and wet but that was to be expected; hundreds of years of ignorance would eat away even the sturdiest of stones. At least he knew his way around. Hans practically spent the entirety of his childhood at Old Castle, reading books or playing Come-into-my-castle with dolls or dancing since back at the palace there were... nuisances present.   
  
In all honestly this year was quite miserable with April being unusually cold. Hans was sure the chill Western breeze must've reddened his face and he hoped that it would have gone back to its normal state by now. How can he negotiate a deal with a man two years his senior with a childish face? 

Slowing his step, Hans peeked at the end of the corridor where the 'legendary' Flynn Rider sat nonchalantly. For someone who was thrown into one of the deepest cells after attempting to steal The Southern Isles Crown Regalia, the man sure was not worried. He just sat there on his humble cot and whistled tunes to himself that would occasionally grow panicked before returning to a carefree beat. Additionally, the man was quite simple-looking and he called himself 'legendary'. Flynn Rider was a tall, brown-eyed brunette with a goatee decorating his handsome face.   
  
"Whoever is standing there you might as well come out. It's not like I can do any harm behind these thick iron bars!" _Ah, so he did notice me. That's good since it means he's not a simpleton._ "Hey!"   
  
Hans stepped out of the shadowy corner where he stood and smiled courteously at the Mainlander. "I do apologize, sir. I did not mean to frighten you.

"Listen, Red. I don't know who you are but let me get this straight." Rider stood up from his bed and gestured into the crack of a window. "I did not try to steal those jewels. I was just at the wrong place at a wrong time and, if your clothes are any proof, you're one of those nobles. Right? I mean who else wears such a fine woolen cloak just to go to see an innocent prisoner? So who're you?" Hans, out of curiousity really, remained quiet as Flynn Rider stared at him whilst in his dramatic pose. "Not a talker, huh? Well that's fine. I know a guy who also isn't much of a chatterer so I'll introduce myself first. My name's Flynn Rider. How you doing?"

Hans bowed slightly at the man. He was brought up mannered. "It's a pleasure, Flynn Rider. I am Prince Hans of The Southern Isles." 

Upon hearing that statement Rider lit up like a Chrismas tree. "Wait, you're a prince? Of this country?" Hans nodded curtly and the other sat back down with a stupid smile on his face. "Hi. How you doing, _Your Majesty_?"

  
Raising an eyebrow, Hans said, "It's actually Your Royal Highness. What you just said, Your Majesty, is an address reserved solely for the King and Queen. I, on the other hand, am a Prince. Although I suppose that is what I meant to talk to you about, Mr. Flynn Rider."

-

This prince, Hans was his name, grinned prettily at him as he shifted from the shadows. Eugene smiled back at him because he knew the boy's type. Ambitious and sly. Eugene wasn't born yesterday so he knew he'd have to be smart with this one if he wanted to leave the Isles with his head attached. "Oh, is that so? How may I be of service to you then, Hans?"  _It's something to do with status for sure. I'm a lowborn orphan. While I toddled around a cold, wet orphanage he was nursed at a Queen's breast in a palace. Although who knows? Maybe he wants my help to get rid of some pest or more appropriately, steal something valuable. I still think it's related to status but hey._

"Prince Hans, Rider. Although I hope to one day be King Hans."  _Status it is,_ Eugene thought. "As you are probably aware there will be a coronation held in Arendelle in next month."

"Arendelle? The least social country in the world? They only really trade with Weselton and Corona and their goods aren't as great as what other countries offer."

Hans leaned at the bars, smirking at Eugene, and explained, "King Agnarr and Queen Iduna died at sea around three years ago. In life they were not the most popular rulers, what with their closed off behavior and the weakening economy it caused. Now that their eldest daughter, Elsa, is twenty one years old she shall be crowned Queen of Arendelle in May. Father means to send me to that isolated land to represent our family. I mean to gain a crown."

"Not to burst your bubble but I'm pretty sure there's another princess. This Elsa dies or abdicates then the other, what's her name? Anna? She gets the crown after Elsa."

"Good observation, Flynn Rider. That's how laws of succession function. From what I gathered from The Grand Duchess Teresa, the future Arendellian Queen is not the social type. Those princesses weren't raised like they should have been."

Eugene knew what Hans was talking about. He encountered people who were extremly sheltered by their parents and they weren't exactly socially smart. Naive. That's the word. "So I help you get that sweet, sweet crown. What's in it for me? Besides walking out alive; I want something substantial if you want my aid in the plan."

Hans blinked with green eyed amusement. "Would you like to have a castle of your own? A keep with a wonderful view of the sea or the mountains? If I become King, then you'll have a title, a castle, and a highborn bride to match."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic was inspired by an anonymous post I saw @fungii.tumblr.com so check them out because like Hans/Murphy this ship also desperately needs more content. Anyway I hope I got their characterizations more or less...acceptable. Like I tell my friends, Hans is like a cabbage because he's got so many layers to him and I think I'm going to add Flynn to this metaphor. Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Erik listened to his son with a hint of amusement. Hans was reading poetry regarding the thief in Old Castle. The boy was discussing the option of releasing the man temporarily rather than having him executed, as his own wife suggested. Watching Hans walk about the room nonchalantly, speaking of the benefits the Crown could gain from the thief, felt as if it wasn't his son but his wife when they just met. The gait, the pink flush of the face, the pretty words: the boy was a Hammersmed through and through.

“Hans,” he interrupted. “Suppose I let the man walk free, what next? How exactly will the Crown benefit? Your Royal Mother is determined to see the man’s head as the Undertaker’s ornament.”

His son laughed. “The Crown will be at an advantage because he will be in debt. Now I know what use is it to believe in a Continental thief’s honor but that is precisely what we need. Flynn Rider is a dishonest lowborn orphan. Therefore, unlike Mother’s little spiders in the neighboring kingdoms who follow their own sort of code, Flynn Rider has no self-set boundaries or restrictions. Imagine how much easier it will be to gather intel when the spiders and rats don’t follow conventional rules and regulations. Allow me to bring him along to Arendelle next month. For the coronation.”

He scoffed. “What use is Arendelle’s socialization to us? If anything, their seclusion was a boon.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, Father. However, are you not curious to see what drove the late couple to isolate themselves? Arendelle is a mountainous land, full of timber too. If we develop a relationship with them we can gain raw material from them.” Hans spoke truly. The Southern Isles, for all its naval prowess, had been suffering from storms in recent years and it affected the general collection of raw goods such as wood and coal. Corona had been providing lumber as their token of gratitude for the help Erik had sent during the revolt more than a decade ago yet it wasn’t as much as he’d like. “Father?”

He glanced at Hans, the boy’s hands trembled slightly but he balled them into fists. Erik sighed and stood up. “We shall discuss the man’s fate after he proves his worth to our realm. I want to know everything about the soon-to-be queen and the princess. As far as we are concerned, their kingdom is only good for being taken by stronger countries.”

Hans bowed courteously before Erik walked past him. He heard as his son, with a quickened pace, left the hall. _Most likely for the stables. That’s where he always goes since that is where Sitron is. The horse had done plenty good for Hans. Built up his confidence and his skills. So much so that he had become the best rider in the family._ Erik’s lips quirked as he looked out the window and saw his son already galloping out the courtyard.

-

Eugene awoke to the sound of a horse neighing. As he laid in his lovely 'bed' he barely could hear the soft sounds of heels tapping against the stone floor; he only bothered to get up when he heard the sweet jingle of keys. Opening the cold iron lock was the familiar freckled face that he saw a few days ago. Once he entered the chilly cell, Hans threw a woolen sack at him.“Good news, you get to live a while longer,” Hans said. “Father had given me official permission to take you into my custody. The Chief Minister acted as witness so the contract is fully legal. We leave in two days’ time."

“Hold on one second, Red. What day is it?”

“April twentieth.”

He watched Hans pace trace his fingers agaisnt the metal bars, attention only breaking when he saw what was inside the sack. Clean clothes, freshly washed. Eugene wasted no time to rip off his own sweaty, grime-drenched, mud-covered outfit. “Red, isn’t the coronation of that Elsa girl in May? Travelling from Hitra it should take us around four days and three nights so, best case scenario, we’re there by the evening of the twenty sixth.”

Hans quickly remarked, “It’s stormier than usual. The seas should have quieted down by now but the climate has been fickle in recent years. Western winds bring chill and rough seas so it’s better if we show up a few days early than late.” _Well that makes sense. I’ve been running around on the Southern Mainland but even I heard that Northern countries have been suffering from harsher winters and waves._

Despite the fact that he was technically released from the cells, Hans refused to actually let him go from the cells. ‘The last thing I need is you scurrying off on me’, he explained. The younger man wasn’t exactly nice but Eugene sure found him entertaining and that more than made up for it. This prison was just so horrendously _boring._ It was just him now since Hans managed to disappear while he was talking about his thieving experience and it’s not like he can entertain himself in this bleak, bare cage. There was no alcohol or laughter like in a pub nor were there any pretty girls he could take on his knee. There was nothing to do and he was bored. Because of this boredom his mind wandered, eventually forcing him to think about the only person who bothered (be it for selfish reasons) talking to him: Hans.

His cunning eyes, amused smile, and greedy words obviously sparked Eugene’s interest. Of course, the talk of his own castle and an upper-class wife sealed the deal. He could just picture being Lord Eugene of House Fitzherbert of a great big castle with golden halls, illuminated with stained glass windows. He would, unfortunately, have to deal with a king but it would oh so much more tolerable if that king was indebted to him. It would make life that much easier in the long run. This was a win-win situation if he ever saw one. Should they succeed and Hans is crowned then Eugene will be a duke or a count or something. If they don’t, well, King Erik would be too busy dealing with an attempted murderer of a son than to pay attention to some thief. It’s not like he has anything to lose. Besides his head. The Queen seemed pretty serious about beheading him but that was just a minor inconvenience that Eugene could probably, most likely, shimmy out with his head intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who adores Hans I want to study his family dynamics a bit more (as you can tell if you look at my other fanfics). My interpretation that giant family is a different to that of Frozen Heart because to me they felt very flat in that story. Anyway I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think!
> 
> Hitra-the largest island of The Southern Isles and where the capital is located


	3. Chapter 3

_What a pleasant dream that was,_ Hans thought drowsily. He had been back at his grandparents’ estate, riding Sitron on the rolling hills. Father and Mother were there, for once not busy with duties or with his brothers. All was well in his dreams.

He threw back his blanket. It would not do him well to be late for breakfast; Mother was already annoyed with Henrik’s habit of sleeping till the afternoon and Hans wasn’t about to give her a valid reason to scold him. He may be a man in his early twenties but he was still the youngest. If Mother won’t reproach him then there were thirteen other relatives ready to take the honor. Opening the windows, he saw fluffy clouds covering the Northern sky. A ray of light broke through the white masses and shined upon the Queensgate Bridge.

Hans heard the door open as a valet must have brought his boots, shined and polished. He turned to address the servant to relay a message, though he was pleasantly surprised that it was not just a valet, but the head butler Karl. He had served their family faithfully for many decades and was a constant presence in Hans' entire life. Karl was of the same age as his parents with a kindly smile decorating his ageing face. Everything he did was proper and seemed to favor Hans over Maron, which was always nice. Maron was loved more by their former nurse so it’s only fair that the butler preferred him. “Come look,” he told him. “The Queensgate is golden today.”

Karl came to have a look. “An entire bridge made of gold. That is a sight I’d like to see one day. Wouldn’t you, my prince?” Hans admonished his valet for such formality in his private chambers. “It isn’t proper, my little Hans.”

“You know what isn’t proper? The Head Butler chasing a naked toddler down the corridors. Not proper at all.” The wrinkles around Karl’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Am I wrong?”

“You were a babe,” said Karl. “Your nanny was with Prince Maron that day so I took the responsibility of keeping our youngest royal clean. You know the story.” Hans did. Karl was Father’s friend since their youth and kept an eye on Hans when no one else could (or would). He’d care for him on top of doing his duties, such as helping to run the Palace and attending to Hans’ royal parents. Hans was certain it wasn’t proper for a royal child to be attached to the head butler’s hip but if the nursemaid didn’t play favorites then perhaps it would have been different. “I’ve heard from His Majesty that the Mainland man is to accompany you to Arendelle. May I ask why?

Karl fussed over Hans' hair. “I feel that he may serve a purpose.” When Karl lifted his face, Hans felt a pang in his chest at the worried look. “I’ll be fine.”

 “You’re always fine and that’s what worries me. I know that living in the shadows of others is difficult. I myself was constantly overshadowed by your own father. He was a prince and I am a commoner.” Karl held his hands. “Hans, there is no shame in just being yourself. I'm a lowly butler but I don't burden myself with that, do I? Promise you’ll remember that when you go to that godforsaken realm?"

“I promise,” said Hans and Karl sighed with relief.

If Maron was annoyed at the butler’s lack of attention towards him today, he wouldn’t have known. As he and Karl walked to the family’s private dining room, laughter rang from his brother’s room. “My prince,” Karl paused, knocking, “the Queen would be most displeased if any of her sons arrive late to breakfast.” The door flew open as his brother embraced Karl, their former nanny following suit. “Breakfast is waiting, my prince.”

Maron said, “Yes, breakfast. That affair. Amanda was helping me with my appearance since my hair just refuses to cooperate today.” He smirked at Hans before ruffling his hair. “Not everyone has lovely straight hair like him. Isn’t that the truth, Amanda?” The woman gently pulled away Maron’s hand while Karl placed his on Hans’ shoulder.

“My princes, do not make your mother wait,” said Karl. “Amanda and I need to go fulfill our daily tasks. I trust that you’re going to go the dining room without delay or trouble.”

Amanda stood on her toes and kissed his brother’s forehead. “Enjoy your meal.” _Favoritism much._

In the dining room, the entire family sans Father began their day with honeycakes baked with blackberries and nuts, bacon, fish poached in milk, boiled eggs, pancakes, and fruits such as apples and cherries and black currants. “Nothing like a hearty breakfast to prepare to be scolded by Mother,” Albert whispered to Ethan. Hans sat between Brennan and Markus today, which was unfortunate. Every time Father was absent from meals, perhaps on official business and whatnot, Mother would have one son or another sit beside her. Usually one of the eldest six had that honor but sometimes a younger child would sit there; today it was Emil. Hans quietly ate his fish, eavesdropping on Albert’s conversation with Ethan. He rolled his eyes at Ethan’s comment on a ballerina Albert spent his past few days (and nights) with. Hans was aware of Albert's nightly whereabouts but he did not want to hear them this early in the morning.

-

Eugene had become accustomed to the guards ignoring him. Southern Islander guards weren’t as nice and patient as Coronan ones, too serious and stiff in his opinion. “Guys, you do know that I have been released? So, I don’t see what got you two so cranky.”

The guard, whom he dubbed ‘Poxy’ because of the faded scars on his face, scowled at him. The other guard, ‘Soupface’ (he always seemed to be eating soup), muttered angrily in their own tongue. Eugene said “Have you been raised by wolves? Don’t you know it’s extremely rude to speak in another language when your buddy doesn’t understand it?” They ignored him.

What he wouldn’t give for a mug of beer. At least in Corona he could pester the guards effectively; these men were made of stone. _Where is that damned kid when I need him? I am dying of boredom here,_ he thought. Hans had told him that their original travel plan was delayed by a few days because the waves were roughing up and the Queen didn’t feel like losing a child to the sea. Understandable. Instead of April twenty second, they would sail to Arendelle on the twenty fifth. According to his noble-born chaperone, the coronation is on the fourth of May. Without any more delays then they will still make it on time.

He heard a horse neigh outside his ‘window’, followed shortly by footsteps approaching his cell. Eugene perked up when he heard Hans talk to the guardsmen in their own island speech, which was still odd to his ears. Poxy and Soupface bowed and left, but not before the latter shot Eugene an annoyed look. “Took you long enough. What day is it again? I would’ve asked those two but they don’t talk to me.”

The prince opened the lock and entered the cell. “Today is the twenty fourth and of course they don’t converse with you. Aage is aware that you poke fun at his scars and Joakim just doesn’t like Mainlanders, which you happen to be.”

Eugene felt sick. “I didn’t know Southern Islanders hated the Mainland.”

At this, Hans’ eyes filled with indignation. “Don’t be so quick to judge, good sir. Joakim lost two of his sons and a brother to the revolt in Corona ten years ago. Joakim tore his hair by the roots and drank so much my brother Markus once found him half dead in the stables. He’s had a distaste for the Mainland, especially Corona, since.”

“I… I didn’t know that Soupface had such a sad backstory.”

“I’m sorry but, did you just say _Soupface_ in reference to Joakim?” Hans shook his head. “Never mind, it’s not important. I came here to take you to my room.”

He snapped his finger, pointing at the prince, he said, “You should buy me dinner first.”

Hans sighed. “Do you want to bathe in the Palace or do you want me to take you to a public bath somewhere in city?” Eugene didn’t even bat an eye and soon enough he and Hans were riding to the Konigsburg Palace.

-

They ended up going to the public baths anyway. They were caught by a butler in the servants’ stairs and he warned them that if the Queen found Eugene without Hans nearby then she might try to behead one of them and punish the other for fraternizing with him. However, there was a silver lining to this. The young prince was, surprisingly, very modest and refused to bathe with Eugene present, choosing to stay in the waiting area.

Eugene always washed himself in the cheapest baths so he couldn’t help but marvel at the mosaic decorating the walls of this public one. Hans had brought him to high-end baths where their god damn tubs were larger than any he'd seen before, some were big enough to actually swim in. “I want one in my future castle,” he said to himself. He took this opportunity to wash himself of the grime that built up in his time at the cell. If he ever sees Poxy and Soupface again he hoped they’d see him when he’s washed himself. Even though he looked good while covered in dust and dirt, he was even more amazing when fresh and clean.

After he finished and dressed himself in the new clothes Hans gave him, he felt much better. _Ready to overthrow an asocial kingdom._ When they left the baths, the stars had come out and the moon was shining brightly in the sky. “You took your time,” said Hans. “We leave Konigsburg at the break of dawn. Aren’t you tired?”

Eugene pulled him closer. “I’m not exactly the best of sailors, Red. Since you told me that the North Sea has been meaner in the last few years, I’m not feeling very good about traveling it. I came to this realm with the knowledge the seas were nice this time of year. Your statements have been keeping me up.”

“They usually are,” Hans told him. “We’re dumbfounded by the change, really. It began to truly worsen when I was around nine. Cold winds from the West have had some sailors nervous. The chill affects not only the water but also agriculture and trade. Anyway, we have to return to the Palace now.”

He nodded and asked, “Where am I going to sleep?”

Hans blinked at him. “Oh sorry. I meant that _I_ have to return to the Palace. You’re going to Old Castle. I would take you there myself but it’s so late so I’ve sent for Aage to collect you. In fact, I do believe that’s him on that horse there.” Eugene felt Hans tighten his grip on Eugene’s arm. “Sleep well, Rider. We’ve a busy day ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah an update!! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter as well as the OCs I've added to flesh out The Southern Isles more. Comments are always appreciated so please leave one telling me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

The morning air was cold and damp. Even though he was dressed in warm wool, the chill continued to creep up his skin. Poxy had woken and escorted him to the port earlier where they waited for Hans. He frowned at him. All the Southern Islanders he’s met in the past hour annoyed him. The fisherfolk and the guards and even some midwives walked about the streets dressed much lighter than him but he was the only one shivering. “You guys must be used to this weather, huh?” Eugene said. “It’s much warmer in Corona.” Poxy rolled his eyes. Judging from what Hans said last night and their attitudes, both Poxy and Joakim understood him. They just chose to ignore him. He could not believe there would be a day he missed Coronan guards, and that stupid white horse.

He and Poxy stood in awkward silence, only broken by distant laughter. Downway the port Hans was chuckling alongside three women and two men. Hans’ presence was expected, obviously, the others were not. As they got closer, Eugene noticed that one of the men shot him an irritated look and that’s when he recognized him. He had seen him in court on the day he was thrown before the King and Queen after his failed (but very admirable) attempt to get away with the Crown Jewels. _Do I have to deal with two royal pains?_ The older prince had told something to Poxy though, who bowed and left, leaving Eugene to the highborn.

Hans finished speaking to one of the women before stepping next to Eugene. “My lord, my ladies, my dearest brother, allow me to introduce you to Flynn Rider.”

“A pleasure,” said he drily. “And who are these lords and ladies, Red?” Eugene must’ve made a mistake because the women had gasped, Hans had stiffened, and his brother immediately faced Hans. “Red? Hans?”

Hans took his brother’s arm and said, “Harald, he means no offense. Mr. Rider is a common-born thief from _The Continent._ I should also think that such sudden familiarity is a cultural trait of those born to the lower class. Countess Katherine, would you not agree?” The woman dressed in pink sized Eugene up quickly before concurring with Hans. “No harm was done, you see?”

Harald placed a hand over Hans’ arms. For someone who seemed to not be overly fond of his family, Hans was acting particularly gentle with this brother of his. They looked like each other, that much Eugene could say. Most of the men who stood by the King and Queen that day he assumed were princes as well, and most of them had either chestnut or walnut hair, the two men in front of him now shared their father's bright auburn hair. “You ought to teach him proper behavior whilst journeying to Arendelle; unless you mean to have Arendellians think us intolerably rude to foreigners. As for you,” he said to Eugene, “do not make a fool of yourself. Lest you wish to lose your head.”

 _Ah. Her Majesty still wants my beautiful head,_ he thought. Hans looked extremely uncomfortable at whatever his brother had said in their language afterwards, however, the Countess had laughed. She and the other two ladies, arm in arm, entered the boat with Harald’s help as well as the other nobleman. He watched them disappear into the upper deck when Hans grabbed his shoulders. “Rider,” he said sternly, not making eye contact. “You and I have a common goal, if you remember. It would not bode well with anyone if you call me ‘Red’ in public.”

“Alright, alright,” said Eugene. “I promise I won’t undermine your authority with nicknames and jokes. Now tell me, who were those people just now?”

“Well, I should think you’ve figured out that Prince Harald is my brother. Countess Katherine Solberg is the Earl of Ejlinge’s younger daughter. The lady in chartreuse is Lucia Falk, Baroness of Als, while the one dressed in brown is Margarethe Lund, Baroness of Lindholm. The man would be Valentin Reenberg, Baron of Holmen. With the exception of Harald, they’ll be accompanying us to Arendelle as members of our little party. The Arendellian Court isn’t exactly popular therefore our humble entourage is made up of younger sons, bored women and a thief.” Hans sighed and rubbed his temple. “I doubt that you paid my brother any mind but Harald does bring up a valid point: you don’t know how to behave properly.”

Eugene frowned. “My behavior? What the hell do you mean by that? I’ll have you know I was the most well-behaved child in the orphanage I grew up in.”

Hans glanced at him, half-smiling. “I’m sure you were, Mr. Rider. Although I should think it unlikely that you would know how to hold a conversation with an Arendellian Duke or politely avoid a disagreeable noble or two. The last thing we need is foreigners knowing of your deeds in The Southern Isles. Not to worry though, I will teach you the basics of court etiquette.” Hans clapped his hands, his face lighting up. Eugene wasn't the brighest candle when it came to the upper class, though his hunch told him that this etiquette nonsense won't be fun.

-

Harald had kissed him on the cheek before leaving the ship. It was not unusual. His eleventh brother was never as amiable as Albert, for example, but he had a good heart. A good heart that was hidden inside a somewhat strict-mannered man, who was as fine an actor as Hans himself. Rider was just a bit too low-born or crude for his taste and perhaps unworthy of a façade.

He paused to study Rider again. The ship had sailed half hour ago and Hans had stared as Konigsburg faded into the horizon. Flynn Rider, for his part, was still clearly anxious about the reports of harsher winds and had apparently decided to bother Valentin and Lucia to cope. “You look serious, my prince.” Katherine walked up the stairs to join him on the upper deck, lips quirked up playfully. “May I ask what has gotten you in such a brooding mood?”

Hans offered his arm to her, which she accepted. They stood together and watched Rider and Valentin guffaw at some story Lucia was telling. “Arendelle, my lady. A realm nearly forgotten by all. What do you think awaits us there?”

“Fools, I suppose,” said she. “My lord father was against of my joining you there. It took some convincing from Mother to have him relent. I would think The King was also unwelcoming to the idea.”

He recalled how Father had took into consideration of not even sending a representative to the coronation. “You would be correct, my lady. Indeed, it is evident that our fathers were raised together in more ways than one." He raised a brow at her and asked,"Do you hope to find a husband in Arendelle?”

“Just like you hope to find a wife?” He pursed his lips, she chortled. “My prince, we’ve been writing each other letters since we were able to hold quills in our tiny little hands. Perhaps the Duke of Weselton will try to set you up with one of his granddaughters again.”

“The Duke is so incredibly ridiculous,” he commented. “I find it hard to believe that his aunt was my great-grandmother. The man is so incredibly old but he's still kicking. All his contemporaries have already made their peace with the world and passed on while he's continuing to exploit weaker countries or find spouses for his descendants. The Duke’s wife was eleven years his junior and she left this world before you and I were even born.”

“You are in no position to complain, my prince. You have the luxury of not having to dance with him. It would be Lucia Falk, Margarethe Lund, and I desperately hiding from his gaze.” She closed her mouth at the sound of Rider’s panicked yelp; he had almost slipped on the wet wooden floor if it weren’t for Valentin catching him in time. “He’s quite handsome, don’t you think? I’d imagine he’s your type.”

Hans could not help but cough. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

Her head tilted up, dark eyes too amused for his liking. “I have not forgotten the fact that you enjoy the company of men and women alike, Hans. Goodness, one of your own brothers is just the same. ” _Curse Katherine and our friendship,_ he thought. They were a mere three months apart and with her father bringing her to court so frequently would lead to a friendship. She was forever lonely because her elder siblings were far older than her and Hans was, well, he didn’t really know. Hans? Her company was highly valued, of that he was sure, nevertheless he disliked Katherine’s wretched intrusiveness. He was not accustomed to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me and my OCs because I promise there will be more solo Hans/Eugene interaction. I create these OCs to play supporting roles and to flesh out characters such as Hans and his family and give them more humanity. I also always found it a little odd how it seemed that it was just Hans representing his country with no escort or party by his side so I added them here. 
> 
> About Hans and The Duke of Weselton being related, they're European nobility. European nobles married into each other families so everyone was a little bit related to each other. And a point of clarification, Katherine and Hans' fathers were raised together because of fosterage, not because they're direct relatives.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

The progress of Hans Westergaard’s unhappiness was steadfast. He and Rider were sharing a cabin for their journey, which was fine in of itself. Hans had experience in sharing everything he has with his brothers, cousins, and wards. What was not fine, however, was Rider’s insistence on talking nonsense. He was not even sure if it was him whom Rider was addressing. “Mr. Rider, I think very highly of your adventures throughout the years. Although perhaps it could wait some other time since it is already quarter past one.”

“Upon my honor,” remarked Rider sarcastically, “I dare not disturb your royal sleep.” He mock-bowed towards Hans and immediately went back to muttering and chuckling to himself. Hans watched how his roommate kept going through their luggage. Since the thief had no proper outfits of his own, Hans had taken the responsibilty of providing for him. Even if that meant taking his siblings' articles of clothes. Surely they won't miss a blouse or two. He had taken some shirts from Maron, a few pairs of trousers from Markus, Emil’s old boots, and a couple of Albert’s waistcoats. He would have given Rider his own clothes if he was able, Lord knows he’s got enough hand-me-downs to spare. He also did not need to have four men pounding at his door whilst demanding to know the whereabouts of their belongings upon his return.

It was just their rotten luck that Rider and him were of different builds and Hans had all his clothes, even the ancient hand-me-downs that were nearly twice his age, tailored to fit him.

He sat up from the bed; Rider had moved onto unpacking his items. “What exactly are you looking for? A servant packed the cases in my presence, I know what’s in them.” He glanced down the window, the waves washing up the ship’s sides. “The sea is acting up,” he mumbled, mostly to himself…

…but he was overheard. Rider dropped a book onto the floor and Hans could feel his stare burning his nape. He had forgotten for a moment that Flynn Rider, ‘The Legendary Thief’, was an inexperienced sailor. Not even a sailor, he was just a terrible passenger. Earlier that evening, Valentin and Lucia had begun a count of the times Rider slipped and his tripped on deck as a mean to entertain themselves. “Hey, Red. What happens when a ship goes down, say, because of a storm? Like do we just wash up at shore clammy yet alive or will we drown?”

Hans did not a waste a moment to answer. He spent so much time on board and in water that his grandfather jested that he might very well be half-fish. “It isn’t bad right now, if that would help relieve some of your burden. As for you question, I can’t answer it truthfully. By Fate’s good grace I rarely get caught in sea storms while sailing. Not everyone has that luck. My uncle died during a storm. He was travelling from Equis back to Konigsburg when his ship was smashed by the waves and swallowed by The North Sea. Near a hundred crewmembers went down with him. The whole kingdom wept for their Crown Prince. Corpses washed up at the beach by Konigsburg Palace for days and the water was red with blood for a week. Well, that's how the story goes anyway. He passed before my parents even wed each other so it's not like my elder brothers or cousins knew him personally.”

"What about your father? Surely he shared some stories about his late brother." 

Hans shook his head. "He rarely speaks of him." 

Rider slowly got up from the floor, fell at the bottom of Hans’ bed, and asked, “Why would you tell me that gruesome story? And did I mishear you or did you actually say ‘Crown Prince’? Wouldn’t your father be the crown prince since he’s now king of the country?”

He pulled his duvet to cover his chest, the chill finally getting to him. Rider was still staring at him. “My noble father became Crown Prince after my uncle's untimely death. Additionally, don’t expect me to sugarcoat seafaring. I'm a son of The Southern Isles. Dying at sea is never out of the question in a realm made up of many islands, big and small. My father drove that idea into my head since before I could walk. This is why our culture dictates that we part with affection upon boarding a ship; one never knows if their ship will sink so it's better to part with a forced embrace than to possibly be plagued by bitterness, sorrow and regret. And now that you know what you wished to learn, go to sleep. I'm tired.”

He rolled to his left, pulled the duvet high up to his neck, and closed his eyes. Rider’s bare feet tapped against the wood as he climbed up to his bed on the top bunk. “Good night, Red,” he said, the candle going out soon after.

-

Eugene couldn’t bring himself to sleep. How could he after being told about Hans’ uncle and the bloody horror show the beach must have been afterwards. He didn’t even know how to feel about it, how the late crown prince must have felt as he drowned in the very sea he was born to rule. He also wondered how the current king felt, a man he'd seen with his own eyes. The crown upon King Erik's head and the throne he sat were given to him at the cost of his brother’s life.

He hummed softly, solemnly, as he looked at Hans from his bunk. His face was soft like this, less playful. The waves had (thankfully) quieted down in the past hour and the moonlight streamed through the window, shining down prettily on the auburn hair. After a short contemplation, Eugene decided he preferred Hans over Harald. The latter was far too serious for him while the former had wit and good humor that entertained Eugene during their conversations. _Now that I think about it, Red looks a great deal like his mother. Just with the king’s colors._

As pleasant Hans was to look at, he eventually grew bored. He wasn’t quite sure how long he spent just creepily staring at the younger man, making shapes of the freckles that dusted his face, but the sun was starting to rise in the distance. He jumped down his bunk as quietly as he could realistically manage, spent a solid minute just watching to see if he woke Hans up, and when he did not stir, he opened one of the cases again. While examining them mere hours ago Eugene had taken note of a gorgeous book bound in fine leather with a gold foil eagle completing the look.

It did have a lock on it but that neither bothered him nor repelled him. He was Flynn Rider and if he managed to sneak past Equis’ renowned guards, then he should very easily pick the little golden lock dangling at the book’s side. He pulled out one of the spare pins he kept secured on his regular vest and sat at the foot of Hans’ bed once he began to tinker with a pin.

It took him a few minutes though it turned out to be a complete waste of time. He couldn’t understand the entries written (probably because they were in Southern Islander) meaning he could not amuse himself with whatever his roommate wrote. 

Behind him, Eugene felt a light touch on his back as Hans was sleepily groping around trying to find the duvet he had kicked off himself. Eugene sighed and tossed the book back inside the case before covering Hans up. He’d wake up soon. He’d wake and then he’ll force Eugene to learn whatever he needs to know before they reach Arendelle. He only hoped that the Baroness of Als had more tales to tell him on the morrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have left The Southern Isles and are off to Arendelle! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think (they are always appreciated)! :3


	6. Chapter 6

The next four days of their journey were mostly filled with Hans’ endless remarks about manners and conduct. He had tied Eugene’s shoulders and neck with a scarf to a chair to teach him how to dine properly, showed him how to bow, how to ask a lady for her company, and how to avoid a confrontation with the Duke of Weselton (him specifically, for whatever reason). Hans had also decided that Eugene will dance with Margarethe while at the coronation party. Valentin will be with Lucia, and Hans with Katherine. They were to arrive tomorrow as the sun set, marking the end of April.

It was evening already. After spending the entire day teaching him how to sort of dance the Polka, Hans had stolen away with three of their companions to one of the parlors, leaving him with Lucia Falk.

Lucia was the shortest in their company, a fleshy woman with sandy hair and blue eyes. Out of the three ladies accompanying them, Eugene liked her the best. She was a fantastic storyteller. In the past couple of days, she’d entertain him with witty tales and jokes. Hans had told him that she was the fifth in a family of six and would often take care of her younger brother, be it by cheering him up with songs and stories. The two of them were walking on the upper deck talking of Eugene’s adventures. Well, Flynn’s adventures but it was a minor detail.

He was slowly getting better at dealing with this whole sailing thing. Sure, he was still picturing a bloody, corpse-ridden beach thanks to a certain someone but it was hard to not like the sea when surrounded by an entire ship full of water-loving Southern Islanders. In the morning the crewmen would sing about the sea, at noon Margarethe insisted they all have tea by open windows, and once the sun set (and he was set free from lessons) Lucia and him would make their rounds around the deck.

“Lucia. What do you think the others are doing?”

She looked up at him, eyes watery from laughing and a grin on her face. “Oh, I should think the Prince and the rest are at the parlor. Playing instruments and dancing, most likely. I’m not much of a musician, my lord. I would much rather weave make-believes than pick up a flute. Baroness Lund, however, is a gifted pianist. If you’d like we can take a peek into the parlor,” she offered and he accepted.

They walked back inside, Eugene helping her down the slippery steps. As they made their way down the corridor into their living areas, he heard music. Not the kind that Valentin and the crewmen sang during the day, the kind he always imagined was played inside a little cottage or a fancy hall. Upper-class music, basically.

Lucia pressed a finger against her lips before pointing at the open door. Looking through the narrow crack he saw Hans dancing with…Valentin. A laughing Margarethe was playing the piano as Katherine pushed Valentin aside, continuing the dance with Hans. Eugene had to admit that he’s never seen Hans as content as he was when holding Katherine and smirking at his previous partner. “What on earth are they doing?” he whispered. The scene looked similar to the ones he’d seen in the paintings he once stole, what with the homely scene of a group of friends having a grand time in a beautifully furnished room.

A small hand gingerly pulled him away from the room. Despite leaving the corridor altogether, the picture was still very clear in his mind. “That’s what we like to do during the evenings, my lord,” Lucia answered. “We’ve travelled and visited each other throughout the years. Who knows how many hours we spent in such a manner, laughing and dancing and playing. Maybe it is a useless way to spend the dark hours, but it is enjoyable.”

He could not help but observe that everyone but _them_ were in that cheerful room. “Is there a reason as to why we’re here and they’re there? I mean, are we not members of this entourage?” Lucia took hold of his arm, walked with him to the dining area, and explained. According to her, Hans and Valentin did not mind inviting Eugene to one of these sessions, however, Margarethe Lund was still uncomfortable with him. _And I did accidentally insult her brother two days ago. That is probably why she’s been so prickly towards me._ “What about you, Lucia? Why aren’t you in the parlor with them?”

She grinned at him good-naturedly and shrugged. “The Prince is a friend of mine; I shall always be welcomed by him. Although you and His Highness have been spending a considerable amount of time together I do think a bit of space will do you both good. Lady Margarethe is yet to like you and Lady Katherine has a sharp tongue. I’d hate to see you fight. Lord Valentin is one of Prince Hans’ few male companions. I would never even entertain a proposition which would force them apart.”

Eugene could not suppress his frown. _Shouldn’t people be trying to befriend Hans? Are these four really his only friends? I guess if we count his brother Harald, and maybe even Poxy, then we reach an unstable six._ “I’ve heard a lot about nobility in my life. I thought nobles spent a good portion of their time trying to get to know other nobles.” Her smile grew a bit strained. “Lucia, my lady, talk to me.”

Her fingers fidgeted about as she said, “You are right, my lord. Generally speaking, those of high birth do actively seek out the acquaintanceship of their peers, other aristocrats. Though everyone in this group is at a disadvantage.”

“How so?”

Lucia stopped for a moment, pointing at all of herself. “I am the fifth out of six children. I have one older brother and three older sisters. Two of them are married with offspring of their own. Lady Katherine is in the same position as well; just like Prince Hans, she is also the youngest with a brother and sister preceding her. Our other members are the spares to their parents’ heirs. My lord, I trust you know what it means to be a younger child in our social class?”

Eugene nodded. He’s met enough upset siblings and children in his time. He was on this very mission because Hans himself will always be the last in line in The Southern Isles.

-

Every day brought its regular duties. Wake up, teach Rider how to behave in high society, argue with him about mocking said society, then enjoy tea by the open windows (a magnificent view always brings a pleasant mood with it), afterwards continue to instruct Rider, then finally he’d spend his eves in the parlor. Margarethe and Valentin would take turns with providing the music while Katherine and he performed their favorites repertoires.

Tonight took a strange turn when Valentin decided to sweep Hans away from Katherine as a mean to engage himself. They had been in each other’s hold for nearly a minute and a half before Katherine maneuvered herself back into Hans’ arms. Margarethe guffawed as she recited the Gypsy Waltz for their odd Valse à Deux Temps. Though he had to admit that their waltz was far more successful than his and Rider’s attempts at the Viennese Polka from hours ago.

After they had danced to their hearts’ satisfaction, he had sent for a servant to bring refreshments into the parlor. Soon enough the tea was set, the windows open, and everyone delighted.

Valentin spoke first. “My prince, my ladies, I should think that I speak for everyone present that tonight’s eve had been the best one yet. Truly,” he gestured at Hans, “His Royal Highness and I outdid ourselves during the rotary waltz.”

Margarethe picked up a small slice of chocolate cake. “Indeed you have, my lords! Indeed, you have. I have not had the pleasure to see such a unique waltz in all my life.” They cheered at that. Hans had danced with men before, he used to practice with his brothers, but it had been a while since he last did. “While this had been a charming night, I would like to raise a matter of increasing importance: Flynn Rider.”

Hans raised a brow at her. “What of him, my lady?”

She glanced at the door before continuing. “Do you truly think it wise, my lord? We’ve known each other since we were children; we are all of The Southern Isles. I do not mean to sound rude but frankly we don’t exactly know where he is from and to whom his allegiance belongs. He’s Continental.”

“Don’t pretend that we don’t have Continental blood in us,” said Katherine with a raised voice, too sweet for anyone in this room to like. “His Royal Majesty the King has blood ties to the Mainland through his grandmother, Katherine of Weselton. Like it or not most of us have some Continental blood flowing through our veins, even your purist family has some non-native ancestry. Additionally, are you actually suspicious of him, dearest Mette, or is it possibly due to what he said in regards to your brother two days past?”

Lady Margarethe said in a cold, hard tone, “Both.”

Hans sighed, placed his cup onto the low table, and leaned back onto the soft cushions of the couch. “My ladies, please. I would not have gone through the trouble of talking to my father, then having the Chief Minister bear witness to the contract I had to draft to bring Flynn Rider along.”

“You speak as if we don’t know that,” Katherine remarked. “In any case, if the events of the coronation start to turn sour it’ll be useful to have him around. Who knows what could happen? Arendelle is genuinely an odd country. I’m surprised this enigmatic regent managed to keep the Royal Family, whatever remains of it, still on the throne. You would think the crown would have been usurped at this point. It should have been. I met the princesses once as a child when my lord father was sent to represent us by His Majesty.” She lifted her face towards Hans. “I did not find them particularly interesting.”

The silence that followed after did not last long; Valentin and Katherine began to bicker about her hats and how he thought they were too big. Margarethe suppressed a laugh when Katherine smacked Valentin’s arm. _We’ll be just fine,_ thought Hans. It was a great blessing to know that everyone in their group, even Rider, would be able to charm other nobility.

Although it won’t be much a challenge, their native country had grown to be a major trading partner for most realms that have access to the North Sea whereas King Agnarr isolated not only himself, but allies and partners. The Kingdom of Arendelle’s influence has been weakening for years now, much to Father and Mother’s delight. Therefore, while he and Rider were to be with Queen Elsa and her sister, his lord and ladies shall keep company with fellow nobility and making sure they remember which realm was more valuable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Once we reach Arendelle and canon's plot that's when Eugene and Hans really start having more on-page interaction. I hope you guys don't mind me adding some of my own original take on Hans' schemes (though we did deviate from Chapter 1)! 
> 
> Please leave a comment telling me what you think! :3


	7. Chapter 7

Hans stacked some papers he’d been working on neatly atop his desk, humming to himself. He’d written down his observations of Arendelle, which were simultaneously underwhelming yet curious. Perhaps it was his island-breeding but this realm, in his opinion, was a _mess._

Their ship arrived just after the sun had set; as they boarded off he and his companions (sans the thief) could not help but notice the port’s passivity. And they were in the kingdom’s capital city. In comparison, Konigsburg’s ports were always full of activity. _This is what Father must have meant by the ‘boon’ of Arendelle’s seclusion. They alienated their trading partners and that’s when The Southern Isles came in with promising deals and bustling hubs._ The city, which was the capital for goodness’ sake, did not feel very protected. Lady Lucia Falk had actually complained about how few guards and soldiers there were around the city. Corona and Equis, fellow mainland realms, were more secure by tenfold.

The castle was closed as well. Despite being invited guests to the coronation, they were not let in and were forced to seek shelter elsewhere since the ship had to make course further West. He was not complaining though. He had found out that other foreign nobility was also denied entry and were staying at a high-end guesthouse. The steward of the castle had directed them there, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. After eating supper in the city, he and the women had returned to their rooms at the guesthouse; Rider and Valentin decided to… take care of certain needs.

They were both older men who came from much lenient backgrounds, he knew and acknowledged that, yet he was still uncomfortable. Hans honestly wished he had the same kind of freedom as them. Technically speaking, Hans wasn't exactly pure. Not completely. True virginity was impossible to retain when constantly sailing or living in a city that had nearly a hundred officially approved brothels. However, being raised by stern parents (and a very prudish butler) influences a man. So, while Rider and Valentin were enjoying themselves somewhere in an alley, Hans was writing a report back to his noble parents.

As he closed the inkwell and placed it into the drawer, the handle of the front door had started to shake as if someone was trying to open it. Hans closed the drawer that contained his stationery before unlocking the door.

Alcohol and debauchery greeted him. It almost felt as if it was Albert in front of him instead of Rider. The man had a lop-sided grin on his face as he wished an equally pleased Valentin a good night. Afterwards, he patted Hans’ back and walked past him, falling onto the bed. Rider sat up, looked around suspiciously, and said, “Are we missing a bed?”

Hans locked the door. “Unfortunately, due to the influx of people after such a long period of dormancy, I presume the castle wasn’t prepared to house all of the guests. Why else would we be here instead of the palace?”

“You did not answer my question, Your Highness.”

Hans rolled his eyes and turned to face Rider from his desk. “We were lucky to be provided with a roof above our heads, this was one of the last available rooms. There weren’t any two-bedded ones left in the guesthouse so we have to share a bed.”

“Mm.” Rider kicked off his boots and tossed them to the side. His vest and shirt were both unbuttoned halfway and Hans wished it was not. He could see the love bites and smears of red lipstick littering the man’s chest. “What about Valentin and the girls?”

“Our fair noblewomen are sharing a commodious room together whereas Valentin is in a very humble apartment by himself,” he paused. “You did not actually think that I’d let you be in a room by yourself, right?” Rider shook his head. For a while after that they sat in relative peace. He read his book; Rider slowly drank through a bottle of red wine. Hans dreaded sharing a bed with him later, Lord knows what he could have been doing in a brothel just hours prior.

A considerable amount of time had passed when Rider had offered him a glass of wine. Hans accepted the gesture; his head was still hurting from all the nonsense he had to go through to find rooms for the party. He assumed the younger princess, Anna, was in charge of organizing the event with the help of a steward since back home he and his siblings would take turns helping Mother plan events. _What a poor job they’re doing. Mother would have raised hell if she was treated like this._

Rider stood by the casement, judging by the sounds there was a brawl of some kind going on nearby and his roommate found it engaging. “I used to fight a lot as a child. What about you?”

Hans halted for a moment before answering, pondering on his childhood. “Not very much. I have a significant age gap between my brothers so I mostly kept to myself. Although I was hit every now and then.”

Rider turned his head at him. “Actually, Red, how old are you? I know I’m older than you but by how much?”

“As of right now I’m twenty-two,” he said promptly. “I’ll turn twenty-three this November.”

Rider nodded to himself and asked another question. “And how old are your siblings? You’re the thirteenth, right? Right. Tell me how old the twelfth kid in your family is. And his name. What’s his name?”

Glancing quickly at the clock, Hans put away his book and proceeded to strip. The hour was growing late and there were duties and responsibilities waiting in the morning. As he was preparing to go to bed, Rider continued to ask about the Westergaard Family. Eventually, once he climbed into the sheets, Hans began to tackle Rider’s growing (and slightly annoying) curiosity. “My twelfth brother is called Maron and he is five years older than me, which makes him twenty-eight this year. My parents are of the same age that means you have got to stop referring to my father as a creepy old man with a younger wife. They were born in the same year and if you want to keep your head then don’t make fun of them. My mother dislikes you already. Finally, my eldest brother’s name is Klaus and yes, our family has both a set of twins and a set of triplets. Happy?”

Rider smirked at him and winked. “Yep.”

-

He could tell that Hans was not happy with him being this close. At least on the ship they slept in separate beds, a luxury they did not have right now. Eugene did find it amusing, however, to watch how Hans’ eyes would occasionally go back to the hickeys on his neck. Very different attitude to Valentin Reenberg. When the two of them went out for a romp with those pretty streetwalkers, Hans decided to _go back to the guesthouse._ _What kind of man in his early twenties passes up an opportunity like this?_

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Hans asked suddenly, breaking his train of thoughts.

“Just stupid things. Like the girl by the port.” He laughed at Hans’ grimace. “It was fun, you know? I was deprived of it in the dungeons and on the ship so you’ve gotta cut me some slack. What were you thinking about?”

There was a moment of absolute silence before Hans said, “Trains. Have you heard of them?” Eugene nodded. “I’ve never been on one though I would like to fix that. My parents along with my brothers Klaus, Jules, Joseph, and Brennan have ridden on the Liverpool and Manchester Railway in the United Kingdom during a state visit. How lucky they are; we’ve only started to build railroads back home and it will take some time before I can travel on one myself.”

This was the first time Hans actually spoke about himself. Like really about himself. Usually he would cleverly avoid answering personal questions that were not hard facts. It took Eugene hours to find out what was his favorite color (and he still wasn’t sure) but less than five minutes to be told of his ancestry and bloodline. He was not about to let this moment die. “I’ve been in Britain once for a job. Miserable weather but the guards near Buckingham Palace wore pretty cool hats. Like top hats, but less stylish.”

Hans chuckled at that. “I don’t wear hats myself but I do agree with you. The Buckingham guards’ uniform is quite handsome though the hats are hideous.”

“What about you?” Eugene asked. “You don’t wear hats? I saw your brother wear a top hat. I saw some rich men downstairs wear top hats.”

Hans rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. A small on but a smile still. “I used to wear them a lot as an adolescent to hide my hair but was forced to stop after my grandfather hid them from me.”

“Why’d you want to hide your hair?” Eugene asked. “As far as I can tell, and I’ve got a good eye, they seem fine.” Hans pulled the sheets closer to himself, complaining about Eugene’s cold feet. Eugene sighed at pushed himself further away from Hans, so his ‘icy toes’ wouldn’t touch him. “Ok now that my frozen feet aren’t bothering you, let’s get back to the question. Why’d you hide your hair?”

“Some of my siblings and cousins teased me over it. I was born with straight hair whereas Maron inherited our mother’s pretty curls,” he paused. “Thankfully, Father also has straight auburn hair. Otherwise I would never hear the end of how people prefer soft curls over smooth straight locks.”

“Why?”

“People tend to copy the monarch’s appearance, Rider,” Hans explained, sounding borderline disbelieving. “For example, Coronans tend to gravitate towards brown hair because both King Frederic and Queen Arianna are brunettes. Back home auburn hair started to become the desired shade only after my grandfather, King Albert, wed the red-haired Josefine Gähler. It’s from her where my father, Harald, and I get our colors.”

 The conversation died soon after. Hans had turned away from Eugene, saying he was tired (Eugene guessed that either he or his hickeys started to get on Hans’ nerves). Thirty minutes must have gone by when he started to miss the girl from the streets, not because he felt like rolling in the hay again but because he was cold. The open window that Hans demanded be left open to get rid of his alcoholic stench also let in the chilly air. The girl he spent the evening with would have warmed his bed. Hans would hit him if he got too close for his liking.

“Hey, Red,” Eugene said quietly, checking to see if the other had fallen asleep yet. When Hans rolled over to face him, he continued. “The coronation is in four days’ time and I’ve been thinking but, why do you want the throne? Especially Arendelle’s? It’s not like this realm is as lucrative as your own nor is it as wealthy or populous.”

“Well, that question came out of the blue.” Hans wore a slightly surprised expression on his face, but no smirk or grin or chuckle followed. “I suppose I have my reasons for it, Rider. Perhaps they’re not built on the noblest of grounds but they’re there.”

They did not speak any longer. Hans had fallen asleep quickly, clearly exhausted from unsuccessfully trying to get them into the castle, and Eugene decided to drink another glass of wine. He was not sure when it happened, probably during the journey here where he spent almost every hour of the day with him, but he had grown just a little bit fond of Prince Hans Westergaard and did not want him to fail on this dubious mission. _I guess I’ll have to make sure this scheme of ours stays on its directed path,_ he thought, wine trickling down his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that a lot of fan content about Hans have him be more open about his sexual life but I just can't see him being this free in this department. After researching more about Victorian England (sadly I did not find many materials in English about Danish society in the 1830s-1840s), I doubt that the Westergaard Family would just let their children do whatever they like, especially when they're the ruling house. 
> 
> Also Hans was not thinking about trains just because, I added that in because the first railroads systems were started to be built in Europe at around that time and who wouldn't be jealous if their older brothers rode on something that had never been heard of? I'd be jealous.
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I can't wait to get to the coronation day because I think that would be a very interesting chapter to both write and read. Comments are always appreciated so please leave one telling me what you think! :3


	8. Chapter 8

A cold rain was falling strong and hard from the cloudy sky. Yesterday some Frenchman held a party to celebrate his daughter’s… Engagement? Birthday? He had forgotten already.

Whatever they were toasting last night, there was a lot of booze. Booze that was making itself known because he woke up groggy with a headache. As he painstakingly got out of his bed, Eugene saw Hans standing by the casement. His shirt was half open and he wore a plain muslin vest, simpler than what he usually wore anyway.  “Morning,” he said. “What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock in the morning, Rider,” said Hans. “I tried to wake you up earlier for breakfast but you simply wouldn’t budge. Valentin informed me that he and the girls were going to attend a social gathering of sorts in a neighboring guesthouse while I waited for you.”

Eugene was desperately trying to pull himself together. He didn’t expect it, but it felt a bit awkward to be a hungover mess whereas Hans was entirely sober. The prince must have sensed Eugene’s discomfort since he said, “Don’t push yourself when you’re still suffering the effects of alcohol. I’ve brothers who also suffer from post-drinking headaches just as you are right now and I’ve dealt with their hungover grumpiness for years. Just wash your face while I have a servant bring us food.”

A serving girl walked into the room carrying fruits, pastries, and tea. She paid no attention to Eugene when he shakily thanked her after he splashed water on his face. She didn’t even look him in the eye; she just curtsied before leaving.By the time Hans arrived, he had already eaten more than half of the pastries that were brought. Eugene threw him an apple which Hans caught with a small smile and promptly bit out of it. “You look better.”

Eugene laughed. “I’d hope you say that! Can’t look like anything less than perfect with you around. Last night was a shining proof of that.”

“Whatever do you mean by that, Rider?”

He bit into a pear, the juices running down his chin as he pointed at all of Hans. “Are you actually being serious right now? Red, yesterday while Valentin and I were having a grand ol’ time with Lucia, you were being followed by some ladies. Girls have been chasing after you for the entire evening and frankly, I’m furious. Why go after you when I am literally six meters away?”

Despite rolling his eyes, Hans was laughing alongside Eugene now. His cheeks were somewhat pink now, though Eugene couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or the mirth. Nonetheless, he was satisfied to see the prince to be cheerier than he was the past two days. The weather was much more pleasant then but whenever all of them went for a walk, the Duke of Weaselton somehow managed to rope Hans and Katherine into some long, droning conversation. Needless to say, everyone's demeanors worsened at the old man's sight.

Although it was actually during one of those one-sided conversations did he find out that Hans’ (or actually, his entire family’s) claim to the Arendellian throne wasn’t completely baseless. Some ancestor of his had taken an Arendellian princess for a wife. Nonetheless he was certain that should something happen to this queen Elsa or her sister then her crown should _technically_ go to Hans’ eldest brother and not him (if he got the laws of succession right). However, he was not about to ruin the man’s mood by asking him to explain this tiny little detail.

-

The night was unseasonably chill, even for spring. Hans had been sitting by the fireplace for he hated being cold and was readily waiting for summer to arrive. He was glad to know that Rider was of the same opinion as him; his nightly enthusiasm for lighting the fire has been fun to watch.

They were to eat privately tonight but he did not wish to risk anyone recognizing the thief. Heaven’s forbid the Duke of Weselton should rear his head at the lobby and start inquiring about the single member of his entourage that he does not know of. Rider, for his part, had been doing quite well in keeping up a façade of a Coronan nouveau riche. He was also more than content to wear the clothes Hans had procured for him. “Rider, how much longer do you intend to keep me waiting?” Hans yelled from the main room. Drily, he thought, _did he manage to drown himself in the sink?_  

“Beauty takes time, Your Highness!” he yelled in answer from the bathroom.

“Good grief,” he muttered to himself. He was trying to be patient with Rider, he really was. He was well aware of the disparities between socioeconomic classes and the differences in upbringing; one learns a lot of things when spending their childhood years sneaking into Old Castle. However, Rider was taking longer than even Aage did when he had to go to an event with Hans. And Aage was the plainest young man Hans ever had the pleasure of meeting.

He supposed then that Flynn Rider was no plain fellow. This was the person who had absolutely no issues suggesting to steal the jewelry and medals from last night’s event so that he could buy himself a nicer jacket. “Put this on or I will throw you into the sea,” he had told Rider. He clicked his fingernails against the windowsill as Rider told him that he was just about ready.

Hans meant to admonish him for being unpunctual but instead he was surprised at how well the thief looked in tasteful attire. The green jacket (that was borrowed from Albert) was quite dashing on Rider, the boots were relatively well-kept (courtesy of Emil), and the muslin cravat (which belonged to Maron) was a nice touch. It’s not like Hans had issues with the man’s usual clothes, though he did enjoy how lordly Rider looked now. Hans nodded in approval and said, “Shall we eat dinner?”

When they had arrived to the private dining room, the rest of their party was already there. Hans sat at the head of the table with Lady Katherine to his right and Rider to his left. Lady Margarethe had taken the responsibility for tonight’s supper and what a splendid job she did. Their first course consisted of vermicelli soup and boiled salmon, which was followed by a plate of sweetbreads and roast lamb, then to finish it all off they ate blancmange.

Most of the conversations were dominated by Rider and Lady Lucia, unsurprisingly. Margarethe and Valentin mostly listened to them, the former basking in compliments while the latter chuckling about some jape or jest. He participated in the chatter as well as he could.

With Katherine’s help, Hans found himself speaking more freely with Rider. Or at the very least they were starting to speak of more personal things outside of their shared bed after drinking wine. And even then, their chats, at least on his part, were chaste. _Let it never be said that Prince Hans Westergaard was raised a vulgar licentious man,_ he thought to himself. He and his siblings were brought up correctly, something he couldn’t say about the hermits that were supposed to rule Arendelle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Nice!
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far; I do my fair bit of researching and Hans' family lineage will come up again in the future chapters so I hope you guys don't mind that! I'm not sure yet, but I think it's safe to say that the Duke of Weselton will have a stronger presence in this story than he had in the actual movie so I might play around with his character a bit (of course, I will try and stay true to his canonical representation but I do want to build on him a bit more).
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think! :3


	9. Chapter 9

Margarethe was happy at the prospect of returning home as soon as the event was over, Katherine was disappointed that her possible Coronan suitor could not make it to the ceremony and Hans was just relieved that Lucia kept the Duke of Weselton away from Rider throughout breakfast. The second the Duke or his entourage figure out that Rider was not nouveau riche is the second Hans will have a lot of offended nobility to try and please. At least the day was clear and bright, perfect weather for a coronation. Hans kept Rider by his side when his friends decided to mingle with Equis’ lords and ladies.

The whole city buzzed about the event. He had even seen a couple of maypoles be put up near the market square as more guests arrived at port. While they were out with Sitron, Hans watched the commoners run around with the delight of a five-year-old child at the notion of the gates being open the whole day. “The people appear to be cheerful,” he said.

Either Rider had not heard him his head in the clouds as he spoke to some woman or he had and decided to ignore him. He sighed, climbed off Sitron, and joined the conversation. “Good morning, my lady. I see you already met my friend.” She smiled with a nod. “Allow me to introduce myself as Hans Westergaard, Prince of The Southern Isles.”

“Alice Gladstone at your service, Your Highness,” she said. _A Gladstone._ The Gladstone Family was not noble in any way or form, though they were wealthy. They owned a cloth firm in Britain that had grown to become quite a lucrative business, what with selling painted silk and French lace. “How are you enjoying the celebrations, my lord?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Rider glaring at him for disrupting their own conversation but Hans did not care. “Rather well, Miss Gladstone. Thank you for asking. How are you doing yourself? How is Mr. Gladstone doing?”  
  
“My father is doing as well, thank you. Unfortunately, he could not join my brother and I the coronation. Which is such a pity. He worked so hard to be able to attend the event but he fell ill.” Hans expressed sadness at this and Miss Gladstone shook her head. “Perhaps it was for the best. While Britannia may rule the waves, my father prefers solid land beneath his feet.” _Britannia does not rule the waves. The Southern Isles do,_ he thought.

 She was a pleasant person to talk to, that much could be said. They had spoken for a good while before she had to join her brother. Once she had disappeared into the crowd, Rider clicked his tongue and shot him an insolent look. Hans’ furrowed his brow and said, “Did I bring you here with me to flirt with women or to help me accomplish a particular task? Or perhaps you miss Aage and Joakim from Old Castle?”

Rider snorted as he got onto his horse. “I just wanted to know how the Gladstones were doing after the mysterious disappearance of a huge amount of silk three years ago, that’s all. Also, Red, you know damn well Joakim would be more than happy to watch me rot in a cell while slurping his soup.”

He smiled at that. The old guard used to supervise him and share food with him whenever Hans snuck into Old Castle to get away from his relatives or tutors or a certain fussy butler. “Well, can you blame him? You’re not one of us. You should’ve considered that before being born.”

“Well, forgive me for being born in the wrong place, Your High- “

“Oh, it’s fine, Rider. I forgave that error long ago.” Hans laughed at the flash of anger on the other man’s face. More often than not it was Flynn constantly teasing everything around him. He would mock Hans’ birth and family, social standing and culture, so it was nice to make fun of Flynn Rider for once. “Let’s go to the port, my good sir. We still have time before we are expected. I, for one, would enjoy some fresh air before sitting in a stuffy church.” As they rode away from the market area, Rider kept staring at him, which was a bit unnerving. “What is it now?”

Rubbing the back of his head Rider asked, “Do all kings and queens get crowned in great big cathedrals? I imagine your parents were.”

They were indeed. After his uncle drowned his parents were promptly wed and were named as Crown Prince and Princess in the Konigsburg Cathedral. However, their monarchs also perform native customs as well. “You’ve got half of it right. We crown the heir apparent, the regnant, and the consort in the same manner as the Continentals do. However, due to our isolation we also have very unique customs that just refuse to die. Like the Spear Giving ceremony.”

“Oh yeah, Lucia told me about that,” Rider paused. “It sounds pretty stupid. Like what? The ruler is given a very old spear that gives him authority over the country?”

Hans took a deep breath. Flynn Rider was witty but incredibly dense on cultural things. “The spear bears significance, idiot. I’m not going to get into the history but long story short our islands used to be separate kingdoms that were always at each other’s throats. The spear is a symbol of unity because that was King Maron the First’s weapon. He unified the kingdoms into one realm and the spear is his legacy. It’s important to us so please don’t call it stupid, especially in the presence of Father and Mother’s courtiers. Or anyone from my country, really.”

-

Eugene could not believe it.

Some girl was hit by Hans’ horse while they argued over an ancient spear and it was hilarious. He was concerned how the girl was doing after running into the horse but it was, it was too funny. He’s seen his fair share of fools in the twenty-five years he lived but this was on a whole other level. Hans, being the gentleman that he was, immediately jumped off his horse and went to the girl while Eugene was trying to keep it together. _She fell onto a boat too oh my god._

“Prince Hans of The Southern Isles,” he said with a bow.

The girl curtsied saying, “Princess Anna of Arendelle.”

 _Anna of Arendelle,_ Eugene thought. _So, this is Queen Elsa’s sister._ She was cute, that was true enough. A sweet disposition too. Although much more awkward compared to the three women that came with them. Eugene had the joy to witness Katherine reject three men in one night without even blinking while this noblewoman was blushing at the mere sight of Hans before he fell onto her after kneeling.

She was rambling about how ‘awkward’ it was and how Hans was ‘gorgeous’ and this was when Eugene knew he had to step in. “Your Highness! Allow me introduce myself as Anton Eriksen, a friend to the Prince.”

Princess Anna smiled brightly at him as Hans helped her up. “I’d like to formally apologize for hitting the Princess of Arendelle with my horse and for every moment after.”

“No no, it’s fine! I’m not _that_ princess! I mean, if you had hit my sister Elsa it would be yeeeesh! But lucky you it’s just me.”

“Just you?” _Red_. He could be absolutely charming when he wanted to, Eugene found that out very quickly. Hans was tall, nearly as tall as Eugene, with a pretty face and a pretty smile. No wonder Anna looked like she was ready to plan out an entire life with him. She only left when the bells began to ring. When both Hans and his horse waved back at her Eugene grabbed him so he wouldn’t fall into the water.

The two of them stared at the little boat floating upside down. Hans thanked Eugene in an actually sincere manner, which was honestly a great feeling. He usually gets snarky remarks from Hans so this was definitely an improvement. “Easy there with the princess, lover boy. It’s the other one we’re after.”

An hour later they were all sitting in the pews in the cathedral. Eugene, Valentin, and Hans sat in the second row right behind the Duke of Weaselton. As the ceremony was about to begin, Hans had kicked Valentin because he was chuckling at how Hans had become a pillow to some aged nobleman. Anna, who was standing by her sister’s side, kept smiling shyly at Hans.

Eugene could not suppress his frown at the little exchange between Hans and Anna though. He just found it a bit irritating.

He spent most of the ceremony watching Hans and Valentin. Katherine, Lucia, and Margarethe were sitting behind them but clearly Lucia was already growing bored by how slow things were going. The newly crowned queen must have spent a solid a minute and a half standing there, reluctantly taking off her gloves. Beside him Valentin muttered ‘Improper,” while someone else said, “how distasteful.” Whenever Anna wasn’t glancing back at him, Hans wore a solemn expressing on his pretty face.

Eventually, once Elsa gathered up her courage, everyone stood up and chanted, “Queen Elsa of Arendelle!” followed by clapping and cheers. Eugene was glad when they got out of the church since Lucia began to chat and he was always glad to hear her. “I’ve never been to a coronation but I should think the monarch isn’t as ill-prepared as Arendelle’s queen! How could one presume to hold the Globus cruciger with gloves?” Margarethe rolled her eyes and said something in Southern Islander and Lucia laughed. “Not every realm is as cultured and civilized as us, Mette!”

Valentin’s mouth twisted into a wicked smile. “Careful now, my ladies! I hear that everyone, and I do mean everyone, call _us_ uncultured savages!”

Margarethe glared at Valentin and firmly said, “Everyone is wrong.”

The three of them continued to discuss this matter and the conversation must have become interesting since Katherine soon joined in. Unfortunately, they all switched to their native tongue so there wasn’t much he could say.

 He felt a hand on his shoulder turned to see Hans’ smiling at him. “If you’re worried about missing out on some fun then don’t worry because you’re not. They’re mostly making silly comments about Lady Margarethe’s heritage. The Lund Family are notorious for exclusively marrying native nobility but exceptions occasionally happen. For example, her great-great-grandmother on her mother’s side was from Equis.”

Hans looked so pleased with his explanation that Eugene did not have the heart to tell him that he understood nothing of what was said to him. Jokes about heritage did not apply to Eugene. “So,” he said, “when’s the after-party and what kind of booze will be there?” Hans sighed at that, offended. “Your Highness, I like alcohol. You have to understand that.”

“Oh, you made that abundantly clear, trust me,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sure Arendelle will provide fine enough wine and champagne for you, my good Anton Eriksen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Also, I hope you don't mind me developing The Southern Isles in a different manner to other countries. I picture the country as a trading hub that is viciously culturally and socially independent due to the 'Islands vs Mainland' mentality. Again, I hope you liked this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

By the time they finished dancing, Eugene was sure Margarethe Lund would attempt to throw him into The North Sea. Hans tried, by the heavens, Hans tried very hard to teach him how to dance the Viennese Polka and some waltzes but Eugene was just no good. He could stand his own in a fight, however, the dance floor was not his domain. Margarethe’s aching toes were sure enough sign of that.

“I remain of the opinion that Anton Eriksen is a silly name. You look neither like an Anton nor an Eriksen.”

Since Eugene couldn’t exactly use ‘Flynn Rider’ in a country where he already did some stealing and near guests who knew of him, Hans and Katherine decided to call him _Anton Eriksen_ for the time being _._ As to not to raise suspicion, they justified. He supposed he could have used birth name but in case something happened and he needed to jump ship Eugene would rather not defame his actual name. “You’ll have to deal with it, my lady. I like it no better than you do. The Prince and The Countess though, they found it terribly funny.”

While he stepped on poor Margarethe’s feet, Hans had managed to dance with not only his countess, but also with Alice Gladstone and Princess Louise of Equis. Eugene was also suspicious by how much affection her brother, Prince Charles, showed towards Hans. “At least King Trevor didn’t send his bastards here,” Margarethe whispered in his ear. “For a monarch as ridiculous as him, King Trevor somehow managed to sire about fourteen illegitimate children. Or so I heard. He only has three true-borns, you know.”

Eugene did not know. The more time he spent talking to his dancing partner, the more he realized how god damn ignorant he was. Eugene wasn’t going to lie to himself and will admit that he does want to befriend Hans. Properly.

Unfortunately, Hans saw him as more of an acquaintance or a work friend than an actual friend. Every time Hans had some duchess or baroness in his arms or whenever Equis’ prince practically wrapped himself around Hans, Eugene scowled.

Margarethe pulled him from his thoughts when the queen arrived. As a man in a green coat presented her to the ball, they all had to bow. The Queen’s sister was less graceful. From the time he spent with the Southern Islanders, he had come to learn that Lady Margarethe Lund of Lindholm was the human form of good manners and propriety. He knew instantly that Princess Anna’s behavior must not have been part of protocol when anger flashed in Margarethe’s amber eyes.

Once they resumed the party Eugene excused himself to go see Hans. Margarethe, ever so polite, curtsied to him and thanked him for the ‘lovely’ dance despite both of them knowing full well it was a disaster. Still, it was nice of her.

Eugene found Hans with a noblewoman by the food table. His eyes twinkled under the light as he laughed at something she said. “Good evening! I hate to break the conversation you’re having but would you mind if I steal the Prince Hans for a moment, my lady?” She shook her head, sweetly smiling at Hans before leaving to dance. Hans bowed to her as she walked off.

“How was the Viennese Polka, _Anton?_ ”

“You’re sounding way too smug for my taste, Red.” He glanced back into the crowd, then turned to look again. “Is that the Duke of Weaselton with Princess Anna? And what on earth is he doing?”

“It’s Weselton. Duke of Weselton, Eriksen.” Hans paused. “Oh. He’s dancing.”

“Why are you being nonchalant right now? Like this is a regular thing? Look at him! He’s moving just like a chicken with a face of a monkey oh my goodness.” This was so different to what Hans had been teaching him. Hans’ repertoire was strict and precise, following the rule to the letter whereas that old man now hopped around the princess.

Hans patted Eugene’s shoulder. “That man is my great-grandmother’s nephew, sadly. My brothers Harald and Maron, as well as some of my cousins and I spent a few summers in Weselton. That is where I got to know the Duke’s incredibly unique style of dance. Anyway, you wanted something?”

“Yeah. Why is Margarethe irritated at everything Elsa and Anna do?” Eugene asked.

Hans tilted his head at him, sipping champagne. “Well, on top of running a bad household, they’re not exactly behaving properly.”

Eugene mockingly bowed to him. “Do elaborate for this commoner, Your Royal Highness.”

Quickly running his eyes over the crown of people, Hans pointed towards one of the balconies and gestured Eugene to follow. Outside, the city folk were celebrating just as merrily as the nobles inside. “I suppose the word ‘bad’ is a little bit harsh. They both appear to have good intentions, don’t they? The Princess especially. Not a visible drop of meanness in her, I should think.”

Eugene leaned back against the railings. Listening to Red talk was like reading a book or watching a play, he was well-spoken with a clear liking for the dramatic. “What do good intentions have to do here?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he responded immediately. “Good intentions mean nothing whatsoever to the ruling family. My parents aren’t always good-intentioned but they get the job done. The job being ruling The Southern Isles justly and improving the lives of our people. For example, the reason why my father passed a law that ordered all brothels to register for official approval wasn’t to protect the workers in them. He passed the law in order to collect taxes, increasing government funding. Nevertheless, it’s now easier to investigate when a prostitute or their client is murdered or missing, which makes a huge part of the population happier. Or when Mother suggested to build schools in order to increase the skills of the working class, thus improving the economy. Not good-intentioned but it benefited everyone, did it not?

“The Princess is as pure of heart as any overly sheltered child. However, if that pure heart is not capable of running a household then how can it run a realm? I myself am the youngest member of my entire family on both sides and I was still taught how to be a regent and how manage a palace. I often look after my grandfather’s home when he and grandmother are off travelling somewhere. From my personal experience, this is a badly understaffed castle that is throwing a party which is forcing the servants to work themselves to the bone. It’s a mess.”

At that, Eugene wanted to bury his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe that while he was torturing Margarethe on the dance floor Red was analyzing the whole castle while still chatting and entertaining with other guests. _Honestly, I should have expected this,_ he thought. _He does like to talk to the others about trade and international relations so it makes sense that this is what he does in a building filled with the rich and mighty._ “I’m assuming you’ll be writing this all down later?”

Hans’ lips quirked up, similar to a cat actually. “Of course, Eriksen. Mother, Father, and no doubt some of my brothers will want a full report about Arendelle.”

Eugene looked up. “By the way, why’d you call me Anton Eriksen? What have I done to you deserve such a name?”

“What is wrong with that name?” Hans said accusingly. “Anton was the name of my maternal great-grandfather and Eriksen means ‘son of Erik’. That part is after me. Since I’m an Erikson myself.”

-

He knew Cousin Sonja’s clumsiness would come in handy one day.

More precisely, the skills it had forced him to develop. While he and Rider were bickering about the alias (which he believed was perfectly acceptable), Princess Anna had been unintentionally pushed by some nobleman and Hans had grabbed her hand. Cousin Sonja was always tripping over something and he would often prevent her falls, which made catching the princess very easy. “Glad I caught you.”

“Hans!” she exclaimed.

As he was about to pull her closer to himself to start a waltz, Rider decided drag both of them away from the throng of people. It irked him that Rider destroyed a fantastic opportunity to bond with the princess but the irritation lessened when Rider smiled smugly, winked at him too. “My lady, I must say it is an absolute honor to meet with the Princess of Arendelle again. Now that we are not distracted by a certain horse.”

Princess Anna clasped her hands and giggled shyly. As if she was not used to such interactions. _Which may well be the case,_ he thought. Arendelle after all, to reasons still unknown, had locked itself up for more than a decade. The late King Agnarr would not even host meetings in his own halls, let alone take his daughters to social gatherings. Very different his family’s approach. Erik Westergaard and Kristina Hammersmed worked tirelessly so that their children would have many, many acquaintances. They were successful, to say the least.

“It was a very nice horse,” she said.

Hans turned to Rider. “I had apologized to Her Royal Highness for that improper encounter. Sitron, my horse, is not to blame. The guilt lies in the person who insisted on distracting Sitron’s rider.” Princess Anna had chuckled at that while Rider looked slightly offended. Hans returned his attention her, asking, “If the Princess allows it then perhaps we could walk together in the gardens?”

Princess Anna nodded energetically, opened her mouth to speak, only to be beaten by Rider. “Shouldn’t there be a chaperone with the two of you? I mean, wandering together all alone while everyone else is here seems highly… _improper._ ” Hans pursed his lips, staring incredulously at the man. “Your Highnesses, do think of me as well. I am but a humble nouveau riche with no friends in those masses.”

Hans noticed that the girl began to fidget with anxiety and unsureness, which was not good at all. He could have had a perfectly agreeable evening with her and at the end of it he could have proposed, securing his position in Arendelle. Rider, on the other hand, seemed to have original ideas. “I dare not pester Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa with such a trivial favor, of course. Nonetheless, I am dying to get to know you more, Your Highness,” he paused. “I propose we invite my dearest childhood friend, Katherine Solberg. I do believe that’s her standing by Lord Reenberg. Pardon me, my lady.” He walked past Rider and hurried to the tables where his friends stood.

It took precisely two self-satisfied grins from his companions to alarm Hans. He had no issues whatsoever to pull the strings in his favor; he was his parents’ son. Sadly, it was significantly more difficult when two of his closest confidantes were in the mix. Even more so when they were playing their own games simultaneously to his schemes.

Katherine, in her dress of blue paduasoy silk, twirled around Hans with a wicked countenance. Valentin showed less attitude (much to Hans’ relief), instead offering him a glass of champagne. “How are the efforts in seducing Her Highness?” he inquired. Valentin had caught the attention of some Italian women nearby, but mostly because he switched to Southern Islander. Foreigners do not normally learn their tongue and when they do they show off to the nearest Southern Islander they could find. Nothing of sorts happened during the celebration and Hans had made his rounds checking to see who might understand them. Not a single person did.

“Not a challenge, if I am to be honest,” he said to his friend. “I should imagine it would be harder to make Maron laugh than it is to charm her and Maron laughs at literally everything. Then again, I came here because I need your help in that matter.”

Katherine took a hold of Hans’ right arm. “And since when does my dearest friend need help alluring women?”

“Since Anton Eriksen became a complete nuisance.” Katherine snorted; Valentin raised a brow. “Anton Eriksen is how we call Rider here, Val. Apparently, at least a third of the guests here were robbed or thieved by him so we had to make up an alias.”

“Wasn't Anton the name of your great-grandfather?” Valentin said.

Hans nodded. “Yes, it is. That isn’t the point right now. I need you two, or at the very least Katherine, to accompany us for our walk in the gardens. The Princess did not even bat an eyelid at the request, as we suspected, but Eriksen had all of a sudden reminded her of etiquette.”

“You like etiquette though. You’re just like Mette when propriety is involved.” While true, Hans didn’t want Katherine to drag this out any longer when the princess of Arendelle was there with Rider. He stared at Katherine until she sighed deeply. “I suppose we owe _some_ deference to our favorite Prince of Westergaard. Though I want you to understand that I did not find that girl interesting as a child and will most likely not find her interesting now. Bear that in mind once we put a crown upon your brow.”

Her dress swished at the sharp turn she made to rush towards Princess Anna. Hans and Valentin followed her and the latter chortled to himself when they saw Katherine, who a mere moment ago called the princess uninteresting, was now gently holding her hand and agreeing to whatever she had said. The princess nearly jumped with joy and Hans knew he had done well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter explained why a seemingly random name appeared at the end of the previous update! Additionally, I did expand Hans' family to include grandparents, great-grandparents, and cousins. I like to think that while Hans does not have particularly strong bonds with most of his immediate family (parents + siblings), he is quite close with his maternal grandparents and some cousins. And because he is from a proud, large, and prestigious family he does feel a sense of solidarity with his relatives (even though he does prefer the company of friends and servants/guards more)
> 
> Flynn/Eugene, on the other hand, doesn't fit in with the high society. That's why he doesn't quite understand some of the jokes or attitudes of nobleborn characters. But he is quick-witted and is learning very fast (and he did brush with the upper class while thieving).
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

“Your physique helps, I’m sure,” said she. Katherine had offhandedly mentioned how Hans dabbled in ballet for a time and Princess Anna delighted at that. What she did not know was that he began ballet mostly because his cousin wanted to dance but was too shy to attend classes by herself. He eventually gave the art up in favor of swordplay.

Princess Anna could maintain pleasant conversations, though he had to admit that he did not find her particularly interesting. _Katherine was right._ He blamed it on her parents. He met King Agnarr and Queen Iduna once as a ten-year-old, though his parents were adamant on keeping their younger children away. Father and Mother had found them to be too disagreeable. Princess Anna, somehow, was not aware that her parents had even travelled to The Southern Isles. She also seemed to have forgotten to ever meeting Katherine.

“My parents were never social, you know? I was usually left to my own devices since they were always with Elsa,” she said nonchalantly. “What about you, Your Highness? Are you close with your parents?”

“We are not as close as some other families. I suppose that’s to be expected. Your parents had trouble equally dividing their attention with just two daughters while mine are juggling thirteen sons,” he said. “My grandparents and I have a very warm relationship though.”

Katherine piped in, “Careful now that they don’t try to make a Hammersmed out of you, my Prince! We know that if you could, you would live at Solvborg Palace permanently in a heartbeat.” She turned to look at Princess Anna. “What about you, Your Highness? Do you have a preferred residency in Arendelle?”

The Princess shook her head. “I never left the Capital, let alone Arendelle Castle! I was born and raised right here. It must be exciting, going from castle to castle.”

“Not particularly,” Hans said. “Though I should think it is due to the fact that my family is so large and everyone visits everyone.  My grandparents do get offended when I don’t see them in a while.”

Grandfather Johannes and Grandmother Maria were rather fond of him and Hans was sure he was their favored grandchild, which he was more than happy to be. Of course, being a favored grandson also brought its own pressures. While he himself was young and full of life, his grandparents did not have that luxury. Both of them were already in their eighties and wished to see him wed just as he wished to keep them happy. The fact that he’ll get to please them while taking the crown was a nice bonus.

Although he knew they would have preferred if he took a Southern Islander for a spouse.

Spouse. It was odd, really, how well his grandparents _and parents_ took to the news. Grandfather and Grandmother just wanted Hans to be married to someone of high enough status and wealth, someone who could keep him in comfort for the rest of his days. It was under Grandmother Maria’s advice he had told Mother and Father. His parents, as expected, were a bit surprised but did not mind. Unlike some royal families that had no heirs, the Westergaards had arguably too many. There was enough of an age difference between all of them that should Klaus die childless, there were plenty of others who could take the throne and continue the bloodline.

Additionally, it’s not like he was the first one to be different in that regard. He’s got twelve brothers and multiple first cousins alone.

“Your Highness,” Valentin spoke from the back, "if you do not mind me asking but, what is that strange white lock of hair? I mean no disrespect, I’ve just never seen such coloring.”

“Oh, it’s alright, my lord. I was born with it. Though I dreamt that I was kissed by a troll.”

Hans smiled. “I like it.”

Princess Anna returned the smile. He meant to offer his arm to her again when Katherine grabbed his shoulder. She bowed to the Arendellian girl and asked for permission to speak to Hans privately. Princess Anna, obviously startled by such a request, took a moment to process what Katherine had said. She reluctantly granted them leave and Katherine curtsied. She tightened her grip on him, leading him to a secluded area in the garden. He could tell Katherine was annoyed yet he did not know why.

Hans straightened his jacket. “Is there a reason why you removed me from Her Highness’ presence, leaving her with Valentin and Rider? Rider of all people!”

“I don’t like this.”

“You’ve made that perfectly clear, dear friend. Trust me.”

“No, not that. Enough about that. Something is not right here. The Queen is offish and cold towards all, which is not ideal for a monarch if we are to be honest. More importantly, the Princess did not have that stripe when I was here with my father.” Katherine glanced back to where they came from. “She was not born with it, she obtained it. Maybe she caught a disease, which explains the stripe but not the amnesia. Queen Elsa recognized me almost immediately but her sister did not. Don’t you find that odd?”

He did. His friend was not the type of person to lie about such things. There were several possibilities, perhaps the princess did indeed fall ill, her hair going grey due to the stress (but then the grey hairs should have been dispersed instead of a single neat lock). The more implausible explanation was magic.

Magic was real but rare. Queen Arianna of Corona was saved by a magic flower, for example, with the flower still being in Corona’s castle. Mother’s little spiders confirmed that fact. There were also practitioners back home; sea witches and seers were scattered among The Isles. Father did not like them very much though. He tolerated the witches and seers but trolls and gnomes were not acceptable. Father was quick to have them put to the sword. ‘They have no place in this world of ours’ he once said.

“Well then,” he said, “what do you suggest we do? I do need her hand to gain full control of the realm.”

“No, you don’t,” she remarked. “You and those girls share common great-great-grandparents. They descend from the male line, you from the female.”

Hans tiled his head. “You may be right. However, our favorite Duke of Weselton descends from the female line as well. He has a very strong claim, like he so commonly reminds us, since his actual mother was a princess of Arendelle.”

She smirked. “One of the princesses. He may be half Arendellian but your great-grandmother was the elder daughter. Older children and their heirs come before the younger ones. Would you look at that? The laws of succession are actually in our favor.”

-

“And she’s gone now.”

“I highly doubt Red will be very pleased with that.”

“I highly doubt Her Highness was pleased that Katherine stole away with the prince.”

Hans and Katherine were gone for some time now and Valentin, bless his heart, made many attempts to keep the conversation alive. It’s just Anna was so sheltered that there was nothing to talk about. At least with Hans he could entertain himself by riling him up. That was what he concluded as he watched her be fetched by one of her maids. Apparently, some noble had coronation gifts for both her and her sister.

He did not even know how to talk to someone who practically never left their empty castle. Compared to the palace in The Southern Isles, which he felt had too many people at times (despite the fact he’s been there exactly once for the jewels), Arendelle Castle was creepily quiet.

Valentin and him now just sat on a bench, waiting for their missing friends to finally show up. The cool air tingled against his wine-flushed skin and he sighed, rather happily. It was a good evening if he ignored the fact that his prince will want to butcher him later for ruining so many fairy tale moments… That could’ve gone better. Eugene did not like how Hans switched on and off from being himself and being the fairy tale Prince Charming that Anna was desperate for. When he acted like Prince Charming Hans was too sugary. Not a drop of smug smartassery, unimpressed glares, and self-satisfied grins that endeared Hans to Eugene in the first place.

He felt a firm arm fling across back, grasping onto his shoulder, and pulled him close. Valentin, equally tipsy, grinned at him. “What? What is it?” he asked. Maybe he was an actual idiot but Eugene just stared at him. The lord let out a deep breath and said, “You’re looking depressingly solemn, my good sir. What could you possibly be thinking about?” he paused. “Are you thinking about him?”

“Who’s him?”

Valentin snorted. “King Maron the Unifier. I’m talking about Hans, fool. You’ve been spending an awful lot of time together, and understandably so. I once shared a bed with His Highness for several months on a trip. However, however, I never sabotaged his chances with potential lovers. And I did that for free. I should think you’re being paid to do- “

“I am not being paid a dime. Red essentially gave me an IOU,” he interrupted.

“The way I see it you’re being paid with your life. Her Royal Majesty is protective over her family and you were caught running away with The Crown Jewels.” _He does have a point here,_ thought Eugene. He still recalls the Queen’s sharp tone when she was, basically, verbally destroying him in front of the entire court while her husband sat on his throne. “Let’s get back on track and allow me to reiterate myself. Do you like my prince? My lying, scheming but fiercely beloved prince.”

Eugene pushed Valentin off of him, the man was both taller and heavier and his arm ached under the pressure. Valentin was always easy to talk to and even easier to hang out with, their night with the girls a few days ago was enough proof of that.

Unfortunately, he did not have the opportunity to actually get to know him. Just that he and Red often were stuck to each other. Even Katherine would go do her own things for a day or two. “Sure. I like Hans. Fun to talk to, more fun to mess with. Nice guy. Likes trains, doesn’t snore, and prefers wine over beer.”

“I’m surprised you manage to make him chuckle occasionally,” Valentin said. “Hans is actually pretty serious. Perhaps not as serious as some of the other princes but he is to an extent. That’s why Lucia and I are silly a lot of the times. To compensate.” Eugene’s eyes went wide at that, to Valentin’s amusement. “Court life is stressful. There’s intrigue and rumors and a generous number of backstabbers in every court. Hans and Margarethe worry the most about their future, social standing, and how others think of them because people whisper. There are whispers even about the Queen.”

 _Oh, this is some intriguing intrigue,_ he thought. “What kind of whispers?”

Valentin stilled. “Whispers that can send His Majesty into a rage, or so Hans and Harald tell me. I trust you know that the reason our King is our king is because of his brother’s death?” Eugene nodded gravely. The thought of a bloody sea was gruesome at best. “He married Lady Kristina Hammersmed despite many insisting that he wed the late prince’s betrothed, Lady Agnete Dahl.” Valentin looked down and swept the black hair away from his eyes. “Lady Agnete vanished a couple of weeks before the wedding. Some say she left to join a monastery, others say she threw herself into the sea to be with her prince.”

“And others think she was murdered by the Queen, am I right?” Eugene noted the hardness on Valentin’s face and the tightness in his shoulders. “What do you think happened?”

“I will not slander my dear friend’s mother nor speak treacherously about my noble queen. I prefer to gossip about foreigners and their courts,” he said with a smirk. “All I’m saying is that every country has its own whispers and secrets and murmurs. I’ve heard stories that King Frederic of Corona has bastards. King Trevor most definitely has illegitimate kids but no one knows how many and by whom. Certain people I know claim that this Queen Elsa is not a true daughter of Arendelle, which makes sense. Agnarr and Iduna were dark of hair and Her Majesty is, frankly speaking… a milkmaid.”

They stared at each other until they were both grinning. Tension disappeared as swiftly as it first came. Valentin’s raucous guffaw rang in the air; Eugene’s was probably just as loud. After calming themselves down (mostly because they started to choke), Valentin perked up at the sight of a bush behind Eugene, “Look at that, Prince’s Feathers bloomed early here! The Royal Gardens back in Konigsburg are yet to see them though it appears they decided to delight the guests of the coronation!”

“What’s so special about them?” he asked, plucking several from their stems. “Their color is a striking crimson, I’ll admit that.”

“You uncultured thief,” Valentin said playfully. “They’re very lovely things, actually. My lord father often gifts my lady mother bouquets and tries to incorporate these into them. The King Erik has them laid on his late family’s graves.”

Eugene frowned. “Are they that important to The Southern Isles?”

“Prince’s Feather symbolize unfading love,” Valentin looked him directly in the eye and announced, “Now, let’s go find Katherine and Hans because they’ve been absent for far too long and I’m starting to shiver.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very fun to write! I suppose I should start by clarifying a new location that was added to the story, Solvborg Palace. That is where Hans' grandparents primarily live and is the family home of House Hammersmed, Hans' mother's birth family. 
> 
> Speaking of family, the way I created The Westergaard Family in my fics is less on the abusive side. In my fics, I see them as a family that, while having legitimate issues, do hold love for each other (despite the tension in some inner relationships). The Westergaards lie and scheme and plot against everyone but themselves, which is why Hans and his brothers aren't at each others' throats for their family's crown.
> 
> At the end of the chapter when Flynn/Eugene and Valentin are discussing rumours, the reason so mnay of them are focused on birth is because historically, a lot of nobles had lovers and mistresses so heritage could get a bit blurry. Everyone, especially in court, could have their standing and future tarnished by baseless gossip and I wanted to acknowledge that.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

Out of all of the things that could have possibly happened, seeing a woman sprint across a frozen fjord in May was the last thing he expected. Valentin and he rushed outside to the castle courtyard, where the Duke of Weaseltown was arguing with Anna and Hans. "Look!" he yelled. "It's snowing! It's snowing! The Queen has cursed this land! She must be stopped!" He turned towards two men, who Eugene assumed were his personal guards, and said, "You have to go after her."

“Wait, no!" Anna yelled.

The Duke snapped his neck up at her, pointed his bony finger, and said, “You! Is there sorcery in you too? Are you a monster too?" Behind the old man stood several other nobles, Margarethe and Lucia were there as well. One held the arm of the Duke’s guardsman while the other silently greeted Eugene.

"No. No. I'm completely ordinary," said Anna. If there weren't snowflakes in his hair, then maybe Eugene could have laughed at the faces of those around Anna. But he couldn’t even force out a snarky chuckle since he still did not know what the actual fuck happened.

Hans stepped forward, saying, "That's right. She is... in the best way possible." _Nice save, Red. Very smooth._

"And my sister's not a monster."

The Duke gasped, pulling Margarethe forward, and said, "Your monstrous sister nearly killed me! She nearly impaled this fine young lady with her ice! And now you would have us believe she's not a creature sent to torture us." Margarethe shook her hand free from the man’s grasp, clearly not enjoying the situation. Her perfect honey curls were significantly less perfect than when Eugene last saw her, which made him all the more curious about what had occurred.

"It was an accident. She was scared. She didn't mean it. She didn't mean any of this.... Tonight, was my fault. I pushed her. So, I'm the one that needs to go after her," Anna explained. The Duke snorted while the crowd muttered to themselves. 

"Anna," said Hans, worry lacing his words, "it's too dangerous. If you're going then I'm coming with you."

The princess looked down at Hans from her horse and reassured him, "Elsa's not dangerous. I'll bring her back, and I'll make this right. Besides, I need you here to take care of Arendelle." She straightened up and faced the crowd, who for a while now has been severely neglected, if Eugene were to judge. "I leave Prince Hans in charge!"

While Hans decided to tell his princess some parting words, Eugene noticed his friends had slipped away from the masses. He saw them standing, tall and proud, as they murmured amongst themselves. He walked up to them, put on a smile, and asked, “Wow, all of this business is insane, isn’t it? Lucia, care to explain what happened?”

“It’s an eventful tale, my lord, and one I should think was kept clandestine by the late King and Queen,” said Lucia. She linked their arms together, the way the rich folk do, and curtsied to her companions. As they disappeared into the shadows, a purposeful choice, Eugene could hear Hans’ voice. Except it was…different. It wasn’t his own voice, nor was it his ‘Prince Charming’ voice. _Guess I got so used to seeing Red as a regular rich boy that I never imagined him commanding men._ “Does your prince give orders a lot back home?”

She shook her head. “Not often, really. Our royalty is more stable, I would say. At the very least, we never had a monarch almost mutilate a guest at their own coronation party.”

“Speaking of,” he faced her. “what happened while Valentin and I were gone?”

Lucia sat down on a wooden box, gently brushing the snowflakes off her lilac skirt. “Hans, Katherine, and Princess Anna were having a grand time, or so I thought. I was at the far end of the ballroom, you see, but Mette was nearby and she told me that our prince had invited the princess and the queen to travel to The Southern Isles for King’s Day.” She paused for a moment, playing with her lace shawl. “I suppose Queen Elsa and Princess Anna argued, leading to the queen's meltdown. When she yelled at the princess, ice manifested in a semi-circle and nearly went through some of the guests. Mette and The Duke, for example.”

While Eugene was taking in that helluva story, he saw Hans walking towards them from the far end of the courtyard. Not far behind Hans, the very frustrated Duke was following him. “Lucia, I need your help dealing with some townsmen. Do you think you can oversee the distribution of supplies to the poorer folk? I’d do it myself but The Duke is determined to have a private audience with me and I can practically smell the dignitaries coming.”

Lucia nodded with a curtsy. Eugene watched as Hans helped her on her horse before trotting away. He snorted when Lucia guided her horse in front of the Duke and started a light conversation, most likely because Hans asked her. “So, Red, I assume you have a task for me as well. Considering I know nothing about any of this government leadership business I don’t know where and how to implement my skills.”

“If you want to convince my mother and father that you are worth keeping alive, now's your chance to prove it." Hans smiled, scheming. He pulled Eugene closer to himself and said, “I need you to be the thief that you call yourself and find any document that mentions trade, the internal affairs of the house, and the economy. They should be relevant too.”

“You want me to steal classified information of a government?” Eugene raised a brow at Hans.

He scoffed. “And you expect me to believe you’re above that? You had no issue whatsoever breaking into my home and trying to steal my family’s jewels.”

“What will I get in return?”

Hans blinked. “Excuse me?”

 _I hope he doesn’t snap at me for this,_ Eugene thought. “If I remember correctly, I promised to help you get a crown. This little mission you want to send me on seems more about pleasing your darling mama and papa than your desired kingship.”

Hans rolled his eyes, muttered something angrily in his own tongue before saying, “Fine. You’re right. I want you to do this for my parents’ sake because this will make my parents happy. How about if you get me nice, sturdy stack of confidential papers, I will give you a kiss? Will that please you, good sir?”

Eugene could barely suppress the unexpected smirk. “Yeah. Yeah, it will. Also, the Weaseltown man is fast approaching so I’ll see you later.” He patted Hans’ shoulder before sashaying off. He snickered at the fading complaints the old man was throwing at Hans while opening the castle’s side entrance. Walking up the narrow staircase, he was relieved to find out that most of the staff was in the main hall.

In his years of experience, the fanciest doors were often the most valuable of the house. So, softly, he knelt beneath the handle and broke the lock.

The room was cold, dark. Eugene shivered as he hurried to the table to pick open the cabinets. He frowned at the portrait of, who he assumed to be, the late King Agnarr. Had he a sliver of honor, then maybe he would have felt a twinge of guilt at stealing as many "relevant" (whatever Hans meant by it) documents as he could. Eugene grabbed all the papers he found and flipped through them, picking out the ones mentioning Arendelle's trade and economy. 

He hid the papers in his shirt and left to another room. The next chamber's door was locked as well, so Eugene picked it and slinked inside like a street cat. It was definitely more intimate than the previous room. A portrait of a royal couple decorated one of the walls, a bed on the opposing side. 

Eugene began to scavenge. He did his usual routine when searching for things: check the floors for secret shelves, tap the walls for signs of hollowness, see what every shelf and chest and drawer held, and slash the downside of the mattress.

 _His and Her Royal Majesties better let me walk away free after they see this,_ Eugene thought as he climbed down the window. 

-

Before Hans even had the chance to open his mouth, The Duke was already ushering out every other dignitary outside the parlor. "My lords, I will have you called as soon as I finish speaking with the Prince Regent," he said. The old man slammed the door breathing with relief and exasperation. He then promptly made his way to Hans, taking a seat across from him. "So, my lord of Westergaard. What do you make of this sorcery?"

"I do believe you are aware of my kingly father's stance on magic," Hans said. 

The Duke's brows furrowed. "I know that the Sea King protects his people from goblins and trolls, not from vile witches."

"Do you wish to see my father persecute people who call themselves witches, seers, and sages? My lord, my father isn’t of the habit of executing harmless fools," Hans answered, although he knew Father did do away with those who posed a threat. "What would you have us do? Kill Queen Elsa?" 

The Duke's face was a response in itself. 

Hans rubbed his temples; after a lengthy conversation with the dignitaries and Arendellian nobles, it appeared that they were split. Half of the lot supported the Duke's right to Arendelle, the other half supported the Westergaard Family’s claim. "Princess Anna had told all of us, very clearly, that she will bring the queen back to the city and make it right."

"Whatever that means," retorted The Duke. "For all we know, the only way to bring back the warmth of May could be by stoning the witch until the sun shines again." 

Hans narrowed his eyes. "We've been over this, my lord. If we must do away with her, then we will. However, her sister is still alive and she is the heir. Do explain how you think executing her darling sweet sister will affect your country's economy. You are, after all, Arendelle's closest trading partner."

"Why with marriage, of course!" said The Duke with a sly countenance. "If Princess Anna is truly ordinary as she claims, then I see no issue with a union between her and my younger grandson. Leopold is an intelligent young man of twenty-six and would no doubt bring Princess Anna happiness as a husband and wisdom as a ruler."

Hans stared at the man, obviously content with himself. The longer he looked at him, the more he wanted to throw him out the window. "My lord, would you please give me a moment of privacy. I prefer to do my thinking in solitude."

The Duke stood up and bowed. “As you wish, my good sir. You are very much like your father and grandfather in that regard. Both of them did their best thinking either alone or with their wives. You’ve yet to obtain the latter so I will happily grant you the former.”

Hans escorted him out the door and felt a sense of ease rushing through him. He turned the key twice, made his way to the drinks, and poured a tall glass of lemon water. "How much did you hear?" he demanded, not happy to have been eavesdropped.

Rider, surprisingly, had the decency to look a bit guilty. "I heard about the man's grandson. Leopold, right?" He climbed and sat on the casement, accepting the glass. "I see you're not the only one with proposals to offer. Do you know him?" 

Hans smiled. He may dislike the Duke, but his grandson was an absolute delight. “Leopold is a good man and I greatly enjoy his company." His eyes shot down to Rider's bulky jacket. "Did you get the papers?"

"No, I decided to smuggle toiletries instead, Red, of course I got the papers," he said. "I grabbed as many as I thought were relevant and even found some letters stashed in what I think was the dead king's bedroom. They all date back to around ten-fifteen years ago."

"Mother will love this!" Hans nearly exclaimed. Nothing made her happier than information on others and private letters were always good sources. "I do wonder what sort of man King Agnarr was and Mother most definitely will be interested." 

Hans would have gladly went through the stack himself if he did not have other responsibilities awaiting. He gave the hefty bundle back to his friend and said, "Would you be most kind and give this to Katherine? Lucia is helping the poor and Margarethe is distracting the dignitaries; Katherine should be available though. Tell her to sort through them, she'll know what that means."

Rider tucked the documents back into his shirt and jacket, raised a brow at him, and asked, "And what will you be doing, Red?"

"Why preparing the main hall for the common folk, what else?" If Hans was honest, he found Rider's question a bit incredulous. He was named regent and so he has people to look after and a castle to manage. "Hopefully, the kitchen staff isn't overwhelmed by the influx of hungry people. I should expect the rich to dine in their own homes but the poor were struck unprepared by Queen Elsa's... abilities. I already have guards handing out blankets and other such necessities. It's very busy right now as well so you should be able to approach Katherine without suspicion, in case you're worried about that."

For his part, Rider seemed rattled by him but quickly recovered. Hans was glad to have him on his side while tackling this ordeal. _A snowstorm in May. If everything goes well then, the suffering should be diminished. Hopefully, this won't affect the people down the year with the crops and fish._

Hans closed the window, pulling the curtains down to the rustle of Rider handling the precious papers. Thinking of his thief, Hans took a deep breath and shushed away the disapproving voices in his head. “Wait,” he said when he saw Rider already by the door. Hans neared towards him and kissed the man’s cheek, similar to the familial ones he shared with his family, a quick peck and nothing more. “I did promise you one, did I not?” he said, feeling the need to explain himself.

Rider, who Hans swore had a certain ruddiness to his face, smirked and (too) happily made his way out the door. Hans himself was also far too pleased with fulfilling Rider’s trivial and almost certainly joking request. _Thank goodness Katherine won’t know about this, else she’ll come flying to me,_ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this chapter was an absolute delight to write! We are finally getting some (extremely innocent) romantic action after 18K words! :D
> 
> Though more seriously, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I found it fun writing Hans and Eugene in their somewhat natural environments, one dealing with unruly nobles while the other was thieving shit. The chapters to come should be interesting now that things are really hitting the fan in Arendelle!
> 
> In regards to Hans's behavior, specifically towards the end of the chapter, I noticed while watching the movie for nth time for reference that Hans was literally the only highborn character to actually help the city's citizens. Additionally, and this is now based on my personal interpretation, I believe that Hans definitely has a more compassionate side. Considering he spent his free time with younger children of nobles, guards (+ criminals by association), and a butler then he would see how the underprivileged across the classes lived. Also, he's got ambition higher than the moon so some more "people-helping" ambitions have got to manifest alongside the personal ones.
> 
> I spend way too much time thinking about every aspect of this man.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated so please leave one telling me what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

Katherine was a beautiful, clever, and an extremely persistent woman. Hans had known her since he was a newborn babe and while every other man would kill for her attention, he would happily pay a thousand krones to be rid of her.

“Hans, darling, I am most offended that you will not tell me why Rider is in such a good mood. Appalled even. Usually after sharing your company he’s grumbling and muttering to himself. Have you any idea how absolutely desperate I am to know why he soared across the hall in high spirits?” She blinked innocently. He frowned. He was going through the castle’s food storage records in his room at the guesthouse when his friend decided to barge in. The palace was filled with people, he needed quiet and Katherine did not plan to be quiet.

He had more important things to worry about than pleasing Countess Solberg. Things such as The Arendellian Royal Family. Isolated and mysterious as they were, he could not find any letter which mentioned the cause of the wretched ice magic. Katherine also failed when going through the papers.

“Rider is a handsome man, that much is obvious to anyone.” She leaned close, uncomfortably so. “Did you two share some melting moments?”

“Of course not!” said he. The prickling heat in his chest intensified. “I did tell you that whenever I even attempt to make a stitch I can hear Karl’s voice, clear as day, begging me to reconsider.”

“The man definitely raised you in a womanlier fashion,” Katherine murmured, fiddling with her loose curls. “Imagine if you were a girl, Hans! Your chastity would have been a prized quality for any groom.”

“Court gossip would have it that I lost my virginity when I was twenty.”

“To. A. Man!” Katherine giggled with a sisterly fondness. “Just tell me what happened. What got Rider to be as chipper as a bird in spring? I've multitudes of admirers. I can help. I see no reason why you can’t be courted by the man. We already established that you have a strong blood claim over Arendelle. I can picture it now: you, sitting on the throne, high above them all. Lords and ladies actually listening to what you have to say.”

The picture she painted was more than a little attractive. No one dared to interrupt Father nor Klaus. When the king or the crown prince spoke, everyone watched themselves and obeyed. When the thirteenth son spoke, everyone, family and outsiders alike, brushed him off. They felt free to nag him, to undermine him, and to downright ignore him. All because he was born last.

 “My _family_ has a blood claim,” he said. “If both girls die and Weselton doesn’t annex the land, then my family will seize power. Not me. The scenario you’re proposing will crown one of my older brothers as king because of seniority.”

“You ought to kill your brothers,” Katherine joked.

Still, Hans winced. “Listen, Katherine. I may be unconventional in my, as Grandfather put it, ‘harebrained yet admirable ambition’ as the youngest son but I’m not the one to sail from tradition. When I have children of my own, my eldest will inherit.”

“I am glad that you continue to uphold our customs,” she paused. “Do you happen to hear Karl’s voice also begging you to not commit the sin of kinslaying by slaughtering your brothers?”

Hans snorted, grinning. “I would be lying if I said I don’t.” He placed his writings into the drawer, locking it. “Karl, as well as my grandparents, want me taken care of by marrying a wealthy noble. Rider is a poor commoner and I have no substantial holdings because of my station. Good thing I am entitled to live at any royal residence back home." He felt blood rushing to his cheeks. "However, I must admit Prince Charles seems to be rather fond of me. But I've known him for years and he can be just like that.”

Katherine nearly dropped the lamp in her hand. “Charles of Equis? I had heard of Duke Leopold’s affection for you but not him. Thank goodness Charles has a handsome countenance. Thank heavens he takes after his maternal side! Him and his siblings. The only thing King Trevor left of himself in his true heirs is their yellow hair. I was told his bastards resemble him more.”

Once again Hans thought back to his own family and what they were doing. Mother, for a consort, was rather imperious compared to other royal wives. Compared to Father even. Queen Arianna was far less outspoken and much gentler. Similar could be said to the late Queen Iduna. At the very least neither of them was prominent enough to have rumors floating. “Father once said that King Trevor’s illegitimate brood are lucky they don’t have Mother for a queen.”

She laughed heartily. “I should think so! Her Majesty is most acquainted with eliminating threats. I bet Queen Iduna wouldn’t have said anything if her husband sired bastards but your mother is quite alright with spilling blood!”

Hans smiled. “It’s a blessing to The Southern Isles that Father loves Mother very, very much. She actually likes Queen Mary, unbelievably. If their behavior is any sign at all, then I think they’re trying to wed me to either Charles or Louise.”

“What does King Trevor say about this?”

“I wouldn’t know. Mother loathes him, his treatment of his queen, and his natural offspring. At the end of the day, they are a slight to Queen Mary’s honor and a menace to her children’s birthright. Mother has a distaste for those born on the wrong side of the blanket. Alongside a huge distaste for those who speak ill of our family.”

“That includes Rider,” said Katherine.

“That does include Rider,” agreed Hans. Silence followed. Katherine adjusted her hair, Hans rotated his pen. Flynn Rider, while troublesome, was fun to have around. He would never admit it out loud but he admired how carefree the man was. _Must be nice_ , he thought, to not live under constant pressure to be the best. He enjoyed his duties, he truly did. Hans genuinely liked to attend court, discuss politics, draft documents and legislations, particularly those that helped folks like Joakim or Karl. What he hated were the fourteen obstacles standing in his way, each having more power and say than him. “Rider has a certain air that I like.”

Katherine favored him with a smile. Hans had work to do as Prince Regent but the initial chaos had been tamed so the pleasing of the lords could be briefly put off. Of course, some time later he would be expected by the dignitaries to discuss this winter, Weselton might demand for another private audience, and he still had more details to jot down for his meticulous parents. Though at the moment, the youngest prince of Westergaard needed some advice from his dear confidante.

It was difficult to phrase out in a manner to prevent jesting but he managed. Katherine responded, “I should think you’ve already done plenty to be well-liked by him. If Mette is to be believed, your thief was most irritated at the Equis royals circling you hours ago.”

“Do you really believe Rider will take a liking to court life?” Hans asked hopefully, reaching for his friend’s hand.

“He’s already taken to the more fun aspect of our life like a duck to water,” Katherine commented. “We’ll just have to teach him the standard courtier protocol. If he doesn’t learn it quick enough, well, Solvborg Palace is always there for you. And Harald.”

-

 _That went surprisingly well,_ Eugene mused to himself. He was still giddy about that little kiss, shocked that Red would even play along, even more shocked that he was reminiscing it. Eugene did not expect these feelings. His plan was that after that kiss, everything would go back to normal.

It did not. In fact, it backfired so spectacularly that it could outshine Corona’s annual lanterns.

Hans had scurried back to the guesthouse to ‘pick up some essentials’, though Eugene thought this was a graceful move to prevent Weaselton from hounding after him. Katherine also vanished from the castle so they’re probably going through the docs Eugene stole for them.

He wandered around the parlor, keeping an alert eye on his surroundings. Lucia admired the paintings of the late king, Margarethe was reading a book with Valentin fast asleep beside her.

The winds outside were screaming. Eugene was not the biggest fan of the snow and having to see it outside of winter already soured his mood. Maybe the rick folk found it pretty, but it was terrible for anyone who ever lived in a run-down orphanage. On especially freezing nights, he and the other orphans used to huddle for warmth, watching the adults try to seal the broken doors and cracked windows shut. He can’t even imagine any of these Southern Islanders shivering and hungry.

_Then again, I never had to worry about rival families and power struggles._

If that story about Lady Agnete was true, then he and the queen had something in common. Eugene’s work didn’t let him keep his hands clean. He took out quite a few people throughout the years, and won't hesitate to do again if it meant he gets to see another day. Doesn’t mean he enjoyed it. He wondered if Hans’ mama actually wanted to behead him, or if some royal protocol asked for it.

“Hey guys, did your parents ever kill anyone?” All of them had curious looks on their faces, even drowsy Valentin. “Did they?”

Margarethe eventually began speaking, her voice had a cool tone to it. “Our fathers did during wartime. My brother as well, during the revolt in your Corona. It’s not a novel occurrence, Rider. Men have been slaying each other since the dawn of humanity, some for noble causes while others for more nefarious. Why do you ask?”

Eugene shrugged. “Just interested, that’s all.”

Both girls stared at him for a moment before returning to their activities. Valentin was definitely not amused, as far as Eugene could tell. Most of the time Valentin was laughing or smiling, though now he looked concerned. “My father and I shot a troll once. Good riddance. We don’t need those wicked beings.”

Lucia sighed and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I hear they still have trolls of stone in this country. I do wonder how they look. On Als, trolls don’t particularly bother us so we don’t put them to death. Some of them are quite friendly actually. Little neighbors that stay out of sight.”

Valentin frowned and shook his head. “The trolls on my island are frightening beasts that have a taste for human flesh. The Crown encourages their deaths. So does Father, thank heavens.”

“Lucia, you said Arendelle _still_ has stone trolls? What do you mean by that?” Eugene asked.

“We no longer have them on The Southern Isles. They went extinct few decades ago. Like Val said, good riddance. There are types of trolls. Some eat humans, some just spend their days making smoked cheese. Stone trolls, on the other hand, are able to manipulate memories. That in and of itself is reason enough to be concerned. The Westergaards are of that opinion, definitely.”

It took almost all of Eugene’s effort to not ask further questions. He was aware of the tension in his room he helped create. Instead, he thanked Lucia for her kind explanation and returned to staring out the window.

He wondered how the princess was doing out there. As he listened to the harsh winds shriek, he was immensely glad that his own royal wasn’t up in a mountain. Hans belonged in court, manipulating men and charming women. He certainly did a good job of it. Eavesdropping on his conversation with those rich bastards was certainly enlightening.

_Knock-knock-knock_

He spun around, anxious to see if Red returned. Entering the parlor, however, was none other than their local snarky lady, Katherine. Her self-satisfied smirk always meant something fun or exciting was about to happen. And it did. She walked towards him, shining brightly, almost with pride. She curtsied, saying, “Mr. Flynn Rider, I am here on the behalf of Hans Westergaard, Prince of The Southern Isles, to invite you to dine with him in the study upstairs. I believe you are familiar with the directions.”

Eugene hadn’t felt butterflies in his stomach for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melting moments- 1800s euphemism for sex  
> To make a stitch- 1800s euphemism for sex
> 
> I decided to add some of these phrases because back in the ol' 19th century, the upper class was so polite that they had so many of these euphemisms! I try to implement different vocabulary and sentence structure for Hans' and Flynn's POV because of their lives. 
> 
> In reading my previous chapters, I tried to balance out Hans' character by giving him less noble reasons for his thirst for kingship. Sure, I believe Hans would make a decent monarch because of his interaction with the lower class. But Hans is still of the highest birth so he does have a strong sense of pride and a degree of entitlement. He may have fantastic ideas in his head on how to do actual, real good with power in his hands, but let's be real and say Hans also just wants that sweet, sweet crown on his head.
> 
> As for Flynn, I think he's trying (and failing) to stomp down the butterflies. Also, I do apologize if his curiousity can seem cumbersome! Since he's less educated than the other characters, and also lived more in the moment with his exciting lifestyle, he's bound to be more confused about certain things. I'm sure if this story was set in Coronan alleyways the dynamics would be reversed, with Flynn being the knowledgeable one.
> 
> Additionally, Scandinavian folklore has so many types of troll it's ridiculous. Danish trolls are usually fun hobbit-like folk with lotsa children while Norwegian ones eat humans and are scary.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think! They help me keep this story going!


	14. Chapter 14

Eugene watched, somewhat hidden by the door, for several minutes. _Red is looking damn good right now,_ he observed. Hans’ appearance was mussed up, probably because of the winds, but he continued to carry a noble air to himself. Eugene snorted at the sight of him shivering. _That’s what you get for insisting on going to the guesthouse._

“Good evening, Sir Prince!” Eugene said, walking inside the study. Hans snapped out of his musings and turned quickly towards him, cheeks still red from the cold. He readjusted his jacket and greeted Eugene, who in turn handed him a bouquet. “I got these for you. Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

Hans looked surprised. “And where did you find yourself such lovely roses in this freezing weather?”

“Down the stairs. Right by the painting of a battle scene.”

Hans shook his head and bowed. Smirking, he said, “Thank you for the flowers, Rider.” As Eugene grabbed himself a chair, Hans placed the roses in a vase by the wall. Hans’ manners were always perfect, whether he was scolding or praising, and it was something that fascinated Eugene. He’s been in many taverns, saw many fights in his day over rudeness while Hans just gritted his teeth and remained polite.

However, he did see glimpses of a fun Prince Hans when the man was with his friends. Or when he gave him a kiss. Katherine’s winking got him convinced that maybe he can get Hans to talk about stuff other than politics or court manners. “I was told that there would be food here,” Eugene said. “I only see sweets.”

Hans grimaced, clear signs of regret on his face. “I do apologize for not meeting to my own invite. I had hoped to eat properly as well yet the cooks are all very busy pleasing the damn dignitaries now that the commoners have been fed. Nevertheless, I was able to get tea and pastries.” He sat opposite of Eugene and poured them both a cup. “This should warm us right up.”

“Mm.” Eugene hummed. He helped himself to a slice of cake and felt a pang of sourness bolt through his mouth.

Chuckling, Hans clapped his hands. “Not a big fan of lemons, are you? Here, try this one. It’s has a caramel filling so it won’t be as tart.” Hans poured more tea into Eugene’s cup as he explained, “I admit that I have a sweet tooth but I am picky. I’m very partial towards lemons though! So much so that I named my darling horse after them.”

“Sitron means lemon?”

Hans nodded, the mere mention of the animal already had him smiling from ear to ear. “I don’t believe I ever mentioned that Sitron was actually a present from my parents for my eleventh birthday. I’ve been pestering them both about having my own horse since all my brothers and cousins already had their personal steeds while I continued to ride whatever filly or gelding was available.”

“He looks different,” Eugene said, thinking back to the stables he hid in during his brave attempt at stealing the Jewels. “Most of the horses I saw at your home were all spotted. Sitron was the odd one out.”

Hans gestured for him to wait, clearly refusing to speak with his mouth open with food inside (something he had threatened to beat out of Eugene during their lessons). Once he swallowed his tart, he explained, “That is because my Sitron is not native. My family breeds Knabstruppers, the national horse, but Father bought Sitron during a state visit to Arendelle.

“The palace is overrun with people and animals alike. We have cats and dogs and horses and even several birds! Sitron, however, is the best.” Hans stared right into Eugene, a severe look on his face. “It’s important to me that you are aware of how special my gelding is.”

Listening to Hans talk about his clearly beloved pet was kinda adorable. In Eugene’s humble experience, Hans did not often talk about himself. There were a few fleeting comments about his personal life but nothing too deep. He had been scheming to figure out how to squeeze that sort of info from the stubborn, clever prince. He tried to chat him up about sex, rumors, politics (whatever he knew of it anyway), his own past adventures stealing valuables and anything he could pull from the top of his head. The last thing he expected to be the key to open Hans up were regular ol’ animals.

Not that he was complaining. It was nice to hear Hans list all the reasons why Sitron was better than his brother Elias’ stallion Appelsin by tenfold. Or why he preferred his family’s gun dogs over their hounds when hunting and which cat he considered nicest.

There was just something _good_ in seeing Hans relaxed. ‘Carefree’ would be a stretch but at least he was mildly unconcerned. Eugene won’t admit it but he didn’t really think Hans would handle this crisis as well as he had. In his defense, on their first meeting Hans appeared to be more of the stereotypical jealous sibling from fairy tales. And even if he definitely was a bit too ambitious, Eugene was the same. He was that bastard that broke into Equis and he did try to steal The Southern Isles’ Crown Jewels.

“I never saw you as an animal lover, Red,” Eugene commented. “And I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who described a kitchen cat as a ‘snarky bitch’ before. It’s a fucking cat, not a tavern wench.”

“Really?” Hans intoned quietly, his right hand moving up to fix his cravat. “I’m sure you would be of a different opinion should you ever meet Stjerne. She’s less a cat and more a sinister blob of grey-white mass. The head cook, Bente, likes her an awful lot. She even gets upset when I steal Stjerne for myself.”

Eugene raised a brow. “Steal?”

“Well,” Hans started, “There are times when I can’t find company to keep and it’s not like I can let Sitron inside the palace. The cats are the next best option. Minze and Wach normally prowl around Klaus, which means Stjerne has to endure me. It’s fine. I spoil her alongside the kitchen staff. She’s very…round.”

Something in his chest tingled at the sight of Hans’ eyes twinkling with fondness. It was definitely different to the snickering bastard Eugene tolerated in the dungeons. It wasn’t the first time he was feeling jealous Arendelle’s girls. Whoever ended up with this cunning bastard will never be bored in their entire life and that was Eugene’s goal since his days in the orphan home.

-

Hans wondered why the hell he let Katherine talk him into having private tea with Flynn Rider. He knew he had a habit of getting too excited about trivial things, such as the palace animals, and got carried away. He could practically hear Father reproof him for speaking about the dogs to someone who, most likely, did not care.

Even worse that it was to someone he had recently kissed. On the cheek, yes, but Karl would be horrified.

“So, Red, you’re looking pretty red yourself. You okay?” Flynn asked.

Hans paused for a moment before answering, caught up in the sight of the thief’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Rider, thank you for asking. I just caught a glance at the clock at was shocked by the lateness. It’s already an hour past midnight and Princess Anna hasn’t returned.”

“I mean, she is trying to find her sister. Imagine the climb would take a while,” Flynn said. “Maybe she deals with the cold better than us. Since she’s related to an ice witch. What do you think?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve little knowledge in the mythical. I should think you are aware of my parents’ distaste for such things so I was never exposed.” Hans had seen seers and sages every now and then. And there was that one time his cousins dragged him to meet a sea witch that lived by Solvborg as adolescents a few years back. “I hope Princess Anna is mundane. For everyone’s sake.”

“Especially your own, right?” Flynn chimed in. “I’ve shared a bed with you and you grumble about my cold feet all the time. If Anna is as chilly as her sister then you’ll never let her warm your marriage bed. I bet you’d fling her into the fireplace just to keep yourself toasty.”

Hans frowned. “I beg your pardon. There is no need to tease me.”

Rider grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Hans rolled his eyes. “And to answer your question, I think I can survive being cold for one night. Like you said, I shared a bed with you so I am sure I’ll manage.”

“Speaking of sharing beds,” Flynn said, “I still can’t believe your poor mom was pregnant like what? Ten times? Your dad certainly put many heirs in her. Is their bed not broken yet?”

Hans laughed at that. “I know, right? Mother and Father are exceptional really. And they’re noble! Some common families have up to seventeen children.”

“God bless them.”

Hans continued chuckling. This was a welcome change to Katherine’s flamboyant lectures or even Flynn’s commonplace mockery. “Once I am crowned, you absolutely have to become my courtier. I doubt there’s anyone who can match your wit and I’d be most delighted to have you as company. Some of these local noblemen bore me to death.”

“ _Red,_ ” Flynn muttered sweetly, hands grasping Hans’, “You’d be an idiot to think that I won’t be your courtier. How else will I get my well-deserved favors?”

He adored it when Flynn showed physical affection. He simply did. Hans continued to hear his darling butler’s voice, telling him it was alright in just being oneself. That being known, he immediately began to hear Karl shout about chastity, modesty, and propriety when Flynn kissed Hans’ hand.

Hans blinked. He blinked again and Flynn was giggling like a schoolboy. “I hope His Highness can forgive me,” he said. “But I think after all the things I’ve being doing for him I can sneak in one for myself.”

Snapping back to reality, he said, “You’re feeling quite bold, aren’t you? I gave you a peck not too long ago, Rider.”

“On the cheek,” said Flynn, ever smiling. “Doesn’t count.”

That sent Hans’ stomach into a dive, and he tilted his head. “You’re being very inappropriate right now, do you know?” Flynn shrugged, pulling Hans up from his seat. “Rider, you forget yourself.”

Flynn kept quiet for once. Hans was curious to know what his thief meant to do. They shambled around like toddlers for a couple of seconds before it dawned upon him. _He’s attempting the damn waltz, isn’t he?_

They actually never danced together. During their lessons on the way here one of the girls would be present as a partner for Rider. Now Hans could tell that his effort didn’t really improve the man’s waltz skills, considering they were dancing like novices.

“I’m going to say sorry right now if and when I accidentally step on your feet, Red,” said Flynn. “I’m a much better dancer when it comes to festivals and shit. Never really did ballroom, you feel?”

Hans nodded. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Mother had me enrolled in dancing classes since I could walk but I’m not very good in traditional folk.” _Why is he leading? And why are we this close?_ “Rider, you should move your hand from my waist to my shoulder. I’m tall enough for you to do that.” A cocky grin flashed across his face as he told Hans that he much preferred to maintain his position.

When they finally finish the painstakingly awkward dance, Hans could feel the ache settling in his toes. He’ll have to do something about the pain later. It was a relief when they were back in their seats with Flynn deciding to move his chair by Hans’ side.

It was quiet. The city must be settling down now after their initial fear and terror. Flynn is chattering on about something or the other, one arm swung around Hans and it’s comfortable. Through the window, high above the water, the moon was shining brightly. Hans listened to him excuse himself for his poor ballroom abilities and assured him he’d do better next time.

“Well, I’m just glad that you’re not bleeding in your shoes,” Flynn said. “But! Because I’m such a cultured gentleman I did bring you one little gift. As a final sorry about forcing you into a dance.”

Hans smiled, guessing what it could possibly be. _Goodness, I hope he didn’t rob anyone of their belongings for me._ He snorted in amusement when told to close his eyes but complied, he began to giggle at the sounds of pockets ruffling, feet shuffling. “There. You can open them now,” Flynn said, uncharacteristically gently.

Little red flowers lay in his palms. He knew what they were. Every single Southern Islander knew what they were. Han was startled again when Flynn placed the pink roses from before on his lap and said, “I know you rich folk have a language of flowers. Valentin and Lucia told me that. I know near nothing about them so the message could be jumbled up. Still, I hope you like them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, I will admit, is rather self-indulgent but I hope you guys liked it! Also Hans Westergaard is an animal lover 100%. 'Appelsin' means apple and 'Stjerne' means star in Danish, in case you were interested. Knabstruppers are also a Danish breed of horses known for their spotty coats! Since the Southern Isles are based on Denmark, I'm trying to implement a lot of Danish symbols!
> 
> Again, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think! They help me get through writer's block so they are always appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15

Hans cocked to the side a little and stared at him. The petals in his hands were fluttering softly, picking up one of the roses he said, “Are you sure you have no idea what they mean? No?” Flynn shook his head and Hans nodded, understandingly. “You’re much bolder than I thought. To risk sending a wrong message.”

Flynn sat down beside him. “So, what do they mean?”

Ignoring how the thief leaned forward and wrapped his arm around him, Hans explained, “Roses are a good choice in general. Pink ones symbolize grace and sweetness, indecision, secret love, and perfect happiness. All the words that describe neither of us. Especially not me.” He smiled as he twirled the rose. “I should believe they fit Princess Anna perfectly. With the exception of grace, of course.”

“I think they represent you just as well,” said Flynn. “You’re mostly graceful and sweet to your friends. Valentin told me you can and will spend literal days choosing your outfits for special events so that’s indecision. I learned today that you have a secret love for animals which is another tick on the list. But I haven’t cracked the mystery of you wanting a crown. This is not a normal country, Red.”

Hans’ fingers were ghosting over the flowers now. He could feel a stone lodged in his chest, flooding him with uneasiness. He took his time to form an answer, a proper one that won’t have him bombarded with unnecessary intrusive questions. “It’s a tale as old as time, Rider. You must’ve heard stories of treacherous royal siblings.”

“I know that tale, Red. You’re not a part of it,” Flynn retorted. “If you were, you’d be back home slipping poison in your brothers’ cups or slashing their throats at night. Not wooing some princess or queen in a winter hellscape.”

“They’re my brothers. Even if they’re not always particularly pleasant, they’re family.” Hans paused and sighed. “You know three of them pretended I was invisible for two years. The memory of it continues to leave a bitter taste in my mouth.” He felt Flynn tighten his grip as he continued, “My paternal grandmother had just passed. Brennan, Albert, and Ethan were close to her. I was five and didn’t understand death so my endless questions must have been exasperating.”

“Doesn’t make it any less cruel.”

“That’s just what brothers do, Flynn.” He heard Flynn take a deep breath and felt the need to say something to ease his very obvious displeasure. “I’m fine now. Don’t worry about me. I have a man back home who fusses over me day and night. I bet Karl is shaking with fear about my wellbeing even without knowing about the current situation. I just hope he doesn't suffer a panic attack once the news reach Hitra.”

Eyes widening, Flynn asked, “Who’s Karl? I’ve heard of him but who exactly is he?”

Hans said, “He’s a butler at Konigsburg Palace. His parents were servants under my grandparents’ reign. He befriened Father back then. They’re so different it’s unbelievable they’re best friends. Father is a highborn lord and king. He’s stern and proud. Inflexible and, however unintentional, is very bad at showing affection towards anyone who isn’t Mother. Karl is the son of a stable master and a gardener. He’s gentle, kind. He doesn’t have a wife or children but he raised me as if I was his own.”

“Hans,” Flynn spoke up. “If this plan fails what’s going to happen to you? I’m going to fucking run away because I like to live but you don’t really have that option,” he slowed, “I bet Karl would be absolutely heartbroken to watch you throw your life away for a token of power.”

He kept quiet. Scowling, he glared at Flynn. It was bad enough that Hans constantly worried about Karl’s aching joints. He’d never forgive himself if Karl’s health worsened because of him. “I know. Though it is surprising to hear that from an individual obsessed with becoming as wealthy as humanely possible. At least I made sure that if something were to go astray then my friends won’t be accused as well. What about you? How many lives did you ruin with your own greed?”

“My own greed? Unlike you, Hans, I rarely pretend to be someone I’m not. You think I don’t realize that what I do has consequences? When I spoke with Alice Gladstone before the coronation I wanted to see if they were doing fine.” He pulled away from Hans completely, almost ashamed. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “As a boy I dreamed of living an adventuresome life. With a pistol in my hand and a sword on my hip, I felt that I could conquer the whole damn world.”

Hans narrowed his eyes at him in a glare. “You can achieve that with enough determination. Heavens know you’ve got plenty.” Flynn’s ambition really did match his own. It was more selfish, in his view, but everyone lived for their own goals.

Flynn kicked back in his chair and smiled at Hans, an action he found unexpected. Especially with the heavy atmosphere. “I’ve a friend who I think has us both beat. His name is Lance Strongbow, maybe you’ve heard of him. I planned to leave you to be executed for treason or whatever and meet up with Lance in case everything goes to hell.” Hans sneered. “What is it?”

“You truly believe that I would risk my own life? I’m driven not suicidal.” Hans huffed a soft laugh. Father would never kill him. Reprimand him? Without question. Nevertheless, Erik Westergaard would never execute his own child. As horrible as they were at showing it, his parents were fond of their children. Else half of them would have never been born.

On the other hand, they weren’t at all fond of Rider. And Has disliked the thought of the thief losing his head. “If you want you can leave. No one will notice if you slip away. You can stay with some strumpets until the ice thaws.” Father and Mother will most certainly descend on him yet he won’t mind if it meant Flynn walked away alive.

Looking at him strangely, Flynn said, “I’m good.”

“I’m sorry could you repeat that?”

“I said I’m good.” Flynn rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly tapping his feet. “If you had given me that offer when we were back in the dungeons I would’ve accepted it in a heartbeat.”

Hans raised a brow. “Not a full season has passed since then.”

Flynn blinked slowly. Then a full grin broke on his face. “Mhm. That was before you though.”

-

Ever since he was a little kid, Eugene was a human disaster.

His orphanage was dedicated to its mission, considering they dealt with his and Lance’s bullshit. From breaking windows to scaring brats from a neighboring orphans' home, Eugene was very successful at escalating people and situations alike.

After eavesdropping on some of Hans’ conversations and paying a whore to translate some passages from that fancy leather-bound notebook (that he may have taken for a midnight run), he figured that the somewhat reserved prince was awfully attached to a butler named Karl.

Eugene regretted souring Hans’ mood. He really did. He also realized he did not like Hans’ voice when it was harsh. Sounded too much like his royal parents.

But like Hans, Eugene was stubborn. So stubborn in fact that he jeopardized this entire mission because he did not want Hans married. Both Anna and Elsa were lovely and, what really was important, noble _._ Eugene hadn’t got the slightest idea of who his parents were. His orphanage told him they gave him away when he was two years old on April ninth. _And Red can recite his ancestors on both sides for at least five generations. Good Lord he’s such a nerd._

Hans’ pale skin flushed prettily after Eugene’s statement. Eugene was aware that his prince’s structured world didn’t allow for ‘such improper behavior’, so for his sake he tried to be delicate. As delicate as he could be, at least.

“In pubs and taverns, whenever the topic of love came up I’d shut my mouth. Other criminals had their hopes and dream. I was realistic. Thought I’d end up dead or in prison. If it happened then I don’t want my lover to wait nineteen years for me.” He brought his hands together, trying to still them. “I followed my humble little philosophy faithfully for a good twenty-five years, almost twenty-six!”

Hans lifted his head and stared up at Eugene, a suspicious and distrusting look on his face. Yet Eugene swore he saw a little twinkle in those big eyes. “And this involves me how?”

“It involves you because that night in the dungeons, I was miserable. I wanted alcohol and a girl on my lap after your mommy tore me to shreds in front of everyone. And I didn’t want to lose my head.”

“If it helps,” Hans spoke softly, “I am of the opinion that you were probably going to be hanged. Or drowned. According to Father, these methods are much cleaner and preferable to a bloody execution. Mother simply likes the drama, to Father’s dismay.”

Eugene grimaced. “Alright. I’ll need to have a serious conversation about your family and executions later.” Hans smirked, amused. “Where was I? Ah, yes. I was feeling like crap and considered stabbing either Aage or Joakim. Get the keys and run.” Hans smiled. “Then you showed up with a smart attitude and playful eyes and that’s that. Next thing I know I’m feeling jealous whenever you were acting sweetly with the princess. Like, we get on so much better. We’re on the same wave!”

At that Hans broke into a laugh. Eugene hoped he was laughing at the fantastic water pun, not on his awkward, sloppy, and admittedly kinda vague confession. He was glancing to the side, waiting for a response.

Hans’ pulled of his gloves and pulled Eugene closer to himself. A smile, friendly and happy, grew and he looked lovelier than any man or woman Eugene ever saw in his interesting life. _Fuck it,_ he thought, _it’s now or never with this freckly red bitch._

He reached out, swiping his thumb over Hans’ cheek. Hans breathed out nervously, which was cute. Out of character but really fucking cute in his opinion. With newfound confidence swelling in his chest, Eugene leaned forward and planted a short kiss on his lips. Hans, to his relief, didn’t push him back in disgust. Instead, green eyes watched him intently before Hans whispered, “That. That was nice.”

Eugene grinned and moved closer to him, wrapping one arm around Hans’ slender waist and the other on his nape. Eugene licked Hans’ lower lip and gently bit down on it. Hans gasped, letting Eugene slip his tongue inside.

He had noticed it before but never paid much attention to how warm Hans was. His lips were warm, with a distinct taste of lemons. His whole body radiated heat as Eugene practically manhandled Hans onto his lap, throwing off both their jackets while doing so. His face, a bright crimson color, must have been burning.

“What exactly are we doing?” Hans asked.

Eugene’s hands slipped underneath Hans’ shirt and ran them down his back. “I’m not sure. Wanna see where this goes?”

Hans scoffed. “What if someone walks in and sees me straddling you? What if the Duke of Weselton decides to demand another audience with me?”

“I locked the door,” Eugene said as he unbuttoned his vest. “And I don’t think Weaseltown will be looking for you right now. He’s probably grumbling to some lord or lady about the cold.”

He expected some sarcastic reaction from Hans but received none. Eugene frowned, tucked the red locks behind Hans’ ear and asked, “You okay, Red? Not like you to be this unconfident.”

“I’m fine,” Hans spoke sharply. “It’s just ah, I’m not exactly what you call a lobster kettle.”

“What the fuck is a lobster kettle?” Eugene felt Hans shift uncomfortably in his lap as he turned as much as he could to the side. “Red. Are you virgin?” Hans pursed his lips, refusing to answer. “I heard from a little bird that you had an encounter with a man when you were twenty.”

Hans’ rubbed his temple in frustration. He placed one of his arms on Eugene’s shoulders and glanced back at him. “Was the little bird an intoxicated Katherine or an intoxicated Valentin?” He said in a weary voice. “It doesn’t matter. They’re right, I suppose. In one sense or another.”

“In a sense?” Eugene felt his eyebrows rise on their own. “Can I ask in what sense? Have you ever had it in-”

“Of course not,” Hans said. “I was brought up by The Southern Isles’ most proper, prudish butler.” After a few quiet seconds he said, “I had a brush once with a sailor but we didn’t completely go through it. Come morning I was treated to a wonderful lecture from my parents regarding chastity and modesty. A cutting missive from my grandparents about purity followed a week later. Karl also had a chat with me about it. Refrained from such activity since.”

“Your parents, grandparents, and Karl sound like a fun bunch,” Eugene said flatly. “If what I’m doing is bothering you then I’ll stop.”

“It doesn’t,” Hans said and leaned into Eugene’s touch. “It’s actually quite pleasant. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’ve ruined the rhythm.” Eugene sniggered and kissed him again. They’re both smiling when they pulled away. “If Arendelle fails then you and I can stay with my grandparents. Their palace is a private one within a park. We can ride horses from the rolling hills down to the beach.”

“I’d like that very much, Hans,” Eugene said. He couldn’t stop grinning as Hans rested his forehead on Eugene’s own.

He’d love to ditch this wintery hell in favor of a warm island. He does hope that Princess Anna will be able to bring spring’s warmth back but if she doesn’t, well, his jolly Southern Islanders appear to already have a history of killing the unnatural.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lobster kettle- 1800s euphemism for someone who sleeps with soldiers/sailors coming in at port  
> brush/to have a brush- 1800s euphemism for a fling
> 
> I had died a thousand deaths writing this chapter so I hope you guys enjoyed it. Once again, I am building on the idea that he is, like many nobles of the time, were raised to be ashamed of anything sexual. Some of his brothers have shed that upbringing but Hans didn't so that's why he's more shy in my fic/world when it comes to sex. 
> 
> On the topic of Hans' Father, since he was mentioned quite a few times, I've grown attached to him and his wife. Sure, they're not as affectionate as the Coronan and Arendellian Royals but after researching child upbringing in the 19th century it seems to be typical for parents (especially wealthy noble parents) to give their children to be raised by servants/older relatives/ wet nurses. That's why I didn't make Hans to be as bitter as in some other representations. His parents could be better but they're not completely horrid.
> 
> Also can you believe that I gave Flynn more back story? There were so many orphans in the 1800s so I decided to write him with a more accepting attitude towards his orphanhood. He's not pleased with that status, definitely, but it was a somewhat normalized thing in that era of history.
> 
> Aaanyway I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter because I tried so hard to write that kissy scene and almost DIED while doing so! Hopefully I'll get better in the next chapter this happens but until then please leave a comment telling me what you think! I appreciate every single one!


	16. Chapter 16

The sun shone brightly in the sky as water washed up and down the shore. Hans smiled at him, digging his heels into the hot sand. There were freckles dusting his shoulders; he wondered if they were sprinkled on his chest too but before he could get a glimpse Hans had run into the sea.

Admittedly, he rarely swam at beaches. The open sea made him nervous and he much preferred rivers and lakes. Hans, however, didn’t seem to have any issues. Splashing and laughing as the waves washed over him.

“Rider, get up.” 

Eugene jolted awake to Valentin shaking his shoulder. His bed was empty and Hans’ coat was missing. He lifted a hand to rub at his neck and looked at his friend. “What time is it? And where’s Red?”

“It is quarter past nine,” Valentin said, sitting down besides Eugene. “Rural commoners, obviously frightened by this whole affair, have come to the city so His Highness is now going through storages. To see what can be given away. Do you want me to have breakfast prepared for you? You look tired.” He leaned a bit closer. “How was yesterday?”

Eugene fell back onto his pillow and said, “Fantastic. I believe Red has a newfound tolerance for me.”

Valentin chortled. “Good to hear! Else that love bite I caught on my dear friend’s collarbone would have been highly worrisome. The Prince Hans isn’t the one to seek the comforts of a streetwalker, you know?”

He sighed and stretched his back. “If this is heading where I think it is, and know that I want it to head there, I’ve a feeling I will be kissing my evenings at brothels goodbye.”

Valentin’s mouth was wide open and his swiftly growing grin did nothing to hide his delight. He lightly punched Eugene’s arm and said, “Well done, Flynn Rider of The Continent! I’ve never seen Hans warm up to someone so quickly in a while and you did not disappoint. Honestly, you’re quite something, aren’t you?”

Eugene pushed Valentin off him and forced himself to leave his warm blanket. “I didn’t have sex with him, Val, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just ended up being a little too passionate last night because I got to kiss him and hold him. Don’t get any ideas about whispering this to the girls.” He grabbed his shirt and opened the curtains; he was extremely disappointed to see even more snow than last night. “Any updates on this disaster?”

Shrugging, Valentin unfolded his coat and said, “Not really. The Princess has yet to return and everyone everywhere is angry at everything. Commoners from outside the city began to pour in this morning. The castle steward received letters from local nobles who weren’t present for the coronation and doesn’t know how to explain it to them. Hans left Katherine and Margarethe in charge of writing responses. Oh, and The Duke is growing more and more furious. I think I heard him complain about his bones earlier.”

“We can’t blame him for that. He’s like a hundred years old. Makes absolute sense that his ancient body is crumbling.” Eugene hadn’t really spoken to this Weaselman but he didn’t seem too bad. According to the entire entourage, he was an alright fellow who just so happened to have an insatiable thirst for exploiting weaker countries. Hans also told him he was a good host, if a little nosy.

Once Valentin had dragged him outside, Eugene instantly wanted to die. He hated the blast of icy air that hit him and the sound of Valentin munching on an apple did nothing to improve his mood. As the two of them made their way back to the castle from the guesthouse, Eugene couldn’t help but grimace.

The man hadn’t been lying when he told Eugene that people were ‘pouring in’ the city. Men, women, and children moved around the city tiredly. Most were dressed in their winter clothes but some poorer folk quivered and shook as they trudged across the frozen roads.

 _Wherever Queen Elsa went, she certainly left enough trouble to occupy Hans’ for a while,_ he thought upon hearing a baby cry. The poor thing’s mother had all but given her layers to wrap the child up but it wasn’t enough. A little girl in a summer dress passed them by, her bare feet red and angry.

“Hey kid,” he called out to her. She stopped, twisting her head back. “What’s your name?” She stared weirdly at him when Eugene knelt in front of her. He guessed she was probably seven years old, judging by how small she was. “My name’s Flynn. What are you doing here all by yourself? Are you an orphan?”

The girl shook her head, her brown pigtails swung side to side. “My name’s Lucia. I live with ma and da in a village.”

“Is that so? Did you come here with them?” Eugene asked.

Lucia rubbed her nose and hushed an upset sob. “I got lost,” she muttered. “I was playing with my dolls on the hill when the snowstorm began. I tried to get back home but the snow was too deep. I heard some grown-ups say that there was food in the city and that a prince was helping people so I came here.”

Eugene picked her up from the ground and wrapped her in Valentin’s coat, which he kindly offered because Eugene did not want to take off his own. “Lucia, you’re the toughest little girl I’ve met. To get here by yourself in the cold. How about we get you fed and clothed and then we’ll take you back to your village?”

Lucia nodded before asking, “Can I meet the prince?”

Valentin ruffled her hair. “That depends on which prince you want to see, little girl! There are two in the city. One comes from The Isles, the other from Equis.”

“Yeah?” She brightened up. Then her face twisted in deep consideration. “Which one’s prettier?”

Eugene turned to face Valentin. “The one from The Isles, for sure. Wouldn’t you agree, Valentin?”

“One hundred percent,” said Valentin. “No doubt about it.”

They bustled down the busy street chatting away until Eugene caught a glimpse of ruby red hair in the middle of the castle square. He handed the girl to his friend and quickly moved towards Hans, who gave an old woman a cloak before ordering a guard to pass them out. Eugene considered scaring Hans from behind but the second he approached to him, the three worst people popped out of thin air and surrounded his prince.

The Duke, trembling, spat, “Prince Hans, are we just expected to sit here and freeze while you give away all of Arendelle’s tradable goods?”

“Princess Anna has given her orders and-”

“And that’s another thing!” he interrupted, “has it dawned on you that your princess may be conspiring with a wicked sorceress to destroy us all?”

Scowling, Hans said, “Do not question the Princess. She left me in charge and I will not hesitate to protect Arendelle from treason.”

“Treason!?” The Duke grimaced. “How dare you-”

“Let’s all get our bearings, my lords,” said the other prince in town. One who Eugene did not want to deal with at all. “My Duke, please realize that this young man is doing his best in the current circumstances. I doubt any of our lord fathers and lady mothers instructed us on how to govern during a snap winter caused by a witch. And in return, perhaps Prince Hans ought to remember that treason is a crime against one’s _own_ country or sovereign. By God’s good grace we’re all of foreign birth.”

The Duke snorted yet Hans smiled gratefully at Prince Charles. His sister managed to slip past Eugene and linked her arm around Hans’ right one. He’s met them before but now in the morning sun, Eugene finally got a good look on these royals his dancing partner whispered about to him.

Robust and sinewy, Princess Louise looked tougher than most noblewomen here. She appeared to be Hans’ age, with a strong face and a jolly smile. Eugene already knew that Prince Charles was a handsome man even in a candlelit ballroom filled with people and daylight merely confirmed it. Charles was noticeably taller than Eugene. Sturdy and, just like his sister, had laughing brown eyes.

Eugene debated whether or not to lunge at them when a horse galloped inside the yard, bucking and kicking and whining.

Hans pulled away from the sibling pair’s grasp and ran up to the horse. He grabbed its reins and began to shush it gently. _Ah. Red’s one true love. Animals,_ Eugene remembered with a smirk. He skimmed over the crowd, murmurs and panic igniting. “Princess Anna is in trouble,” Hans said. _Wait that’s her horse?_ “I need volunteers to go with me to find her!” _Excuse me what now?_

Men, native and foreign alike, rush towards Hans with offers of their service. Even Prince Charles went up to contribute and Weaselman sent over two of his men. Eugene frowned. He didn’t like this. Not that he doubted Hans’ capabilities in finding and returning that Anna girl back to the city, he definitely could. It’s just Hans was also the only person here preventing complete chaos.

Princess Louise must have thought the same because she, with a clear, sonorous voice, called the attention of everyone present. “My lords! Heavens be good you must think this through! If the Prince of Westergaard leaves the city then who will take charge? He was left here by Her Highness to look after the people, wasn’t he? We need him here!”

Eugene stared at her in awe. She spoke so well and with such conviction that he bet he would agree with anything she said. But also, he was just glad that she was also against Hans risking his life climbing that mountain. Eugene knew he would feel better if Hans was in the city facing dignitaries and Weaslyton than facing an ice witch on a cliff. “My Lady of Equis,” said one guardsman. “What do you suggest we do then?” Just as Eugene breathed out in relief, he heard a childish giggle behind him as a gloved hand grabbed his own and raised it up.

-

Hans listened to Louise and The Duke argue in silence, pacing slowly from one end to the room to another. When they quieted down for a moment, he said, “I have to agree with Her Highness on this one, my lord. The method you’re suggesting is a bit much. We’ve all agreed that Queen Elsa is posing a serious threat at this point. There is an influx of people in the city and the food stock hasn’t had the opportunity to replenish from the actual winter months.” He turned to Louise. “Speak truly, my lady. What do you think of Princess Anna’s plan?”

“Plan?” The Duke all but shouted. “It’s not a plan it’s stupidity! The girl wants to stop this curse by speaking to the witch. Our lives are riding on her talking to her sister.”

“Quiet,” Hans commanded.

“His Serene Highness does bring up a valid concern though.” Louise looked outside the window sadly and Hans sympathized. Valentin, Flynn, and Charles departed the city several hours prior and both of them worried about their well-being. Hans felt particularly bad because he knew Flynn disliked the cold. He told him so last night as they lay in bed together. “I understand that as foreigners we wouldn’t be familiar with King Agnarr’s daughters but even the local nobles and the city folk barely know anything. We don’t know their character. We don’t know anything about them.”

“We do know one thing,” said The Duke. “We know Queen Elsa can’t cope with confrontation. Look how she reacted at her own sister at her own party.”

“What do the native folk make of this?” Hans asked. “I’ve been preoccupied with the increasing number of lost children. Hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with the native-born lords and ladies.”

The Duke softened, shockingly. “I haven’t conversed with any of them since I realized how little they knew about their monarchs. Useless flatterers. However, if they haven’t paid their respects to you know by now then they’re bigger fools than I imagined.” He grinned. “My mother would’ve liked you simply because you took in that girl. How is she?”

“She’s doing well, my lord. I’ve sent a rider out to check the nearby villages for distraught parents. Last I saw her she was eating lemon cakes with the Baroness of Lindholm.”

“That’s good to hear.” He stood up. “Well, I think I’ll go greet our little guest. Stretch my legs as well. However, I believe that we will continue our discussion, yes?”

“Of course, my lord.”

The second Hans locked the door behind The Duke both he and Louise sighed. “That was one grueling audience,” she commented. “And how many have you had since this whole mess had begun?”

“I’ve lost count of the unofficial ones,” he confessed. “He’s very persistent. A good quality, according to my mother.”

“My mother too,” Louise said. “I am surprised to see legitimate compassion from that man. He’s usually so exploitative.”

Hans chuckled at that. It was true, after all. “He’s not entirely bad, Louise. Any nobleman who can handle over ten screaming children under the age of fifteen by himself has my respect. We’d be little devils whenever we came to visit his family for the summer. Father once threatened to fling Maron and I into the sea if we inquired The Duke about his dances.”

“You were little! What did King Erik expect?” With several sharp clinks, Louise removed her pins and golden waves tumbled down her back. “At least both of your parents value good behavior. My poor mother has to control Father on top of tolerating his whores. Pardon the language.”

He waved his hand. His family disliked King Trevor anyway. The colorful words that he’d hear from his parents’ bedchamber when the topic of him came up was enlightening. He’d never even heard some of the expressions they used. “Queen Mary is of agreeable character. I hear she proves tactful with your Father, which I imagine is no easy task.”

“It isn’t.” Louise leaned onto him and pulled out a little pendant made of gold. It had the delicate engravings of the sun, which he found odd. Equis’ symbol was a crowned fiery stallion. Not the sun. “I like to think that he bears some fondness towards me since I’m his only trueborn daughter. Mother often tells my brothers and I that our Father loves us, however, at this point, we think she’s saying it mostly for her own sake. She’s already given up fighting for his attention, only requesting that he not bring his bastards and women to court.”

“He doesn’t respect those wishes, does he now?”

“What do you think?” Louise mumbled. His siblings and him always pitied Louise, Charles, and their elder brother Ferdinand. His parents might not be affectionate but they were functional, stable. The Equis Royal Family was held together by the hero of a woman known as Princess Mary of Altenkirchen, Queen Consort of Equis. Her husband was not an easy man. Everyone on this side of the North Sea knew that. His family more so than others.

_Click!_

Louise opened the pendant, revealing the tiniest, most delicate portrait of a particular monarch her father was famous for disliking. “Maybe in a happier life, Mother would have been of Corona rather than Equis.” Louise looked at Hans with a twinkle. “Father’s been particularly irritable as of late. Mother’s been running up and down the palace, tidying his mess.”

Hans snorted. “I’m sorry to change the subject but is that King Frederic of Corona in your pendant?”

“It is!” She exclaimed. “Mother gave it to me to hide it from Father. He already loathes Corona as is and this pendant might have him exploding. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you! I want to know who that most mysterious gentleman of yours is. I want gossip, Hans. What’s the latest gossip? My mother and I were too busy cleaning up after my idiot father so I missed out on talking to passing Southern Islanders. I’m curious!” Louise playfully nudged Hans’ arms, making him laugh.

“Alright, alright! I suppose it’ll be good to take my mind off things after this hectic day. Hopefully, everyone is warm and fed. And I’ll have to check on the little girl later.” Hans murmured the last sentence, mostly to himself. Louise beamed at his cooperation. He stretched his back and said, “I don’t trust a lot of people.”

Louise quickly took his hand, a solemn look on her face. “I’m aware. Else you wouldn’t be King Erik and Queen Kristina’s son. All you Westergaards are suspicious of everyone.” She said, badly suppressing a laugh. “It’s funny because it’s true.”

“Keep at it and I’ll report to my mother about your improperness. And she’ll inform your queenly mother.” Hans laughed quietly.

“That’s unkind,” Louise said with a grin. “I would expect better from a man who regularly gets flustered by both my brothers and The Duke’s grandson.”

He stared at her. He continued staring at her as her laughter grew heartier. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “If the Lord wanted me to be solely attracted to women, he wouldn’t have made men like that,” he stated firmly. Louise slapped his arm while desperately trying to catch her breath. The poor girl was wheezing and so was Hans.

Eventually, with tears in her eyes, she calmed down. “Goodness, you are too funny! I haven’t had a good chuckle like that since Charles straight up plunged himself into the fountain just to escape our father.” She wiped the rolling beads off her cheeks. “Never a boring a moment with you, my dear Hans.”

“You can spread that word to Flynn Rider,” he told her, his hand in hers. “That’s the name of my ‘mysterious’ gentleman. Although he goes by Anton Eriksen now that he's a nouveau-riche. You could say that I’ve found myself attracted to him. I’m pleased to say that the feelings appear to be mutual. However, I wonder if I should wait and see if he’ll initiate courtship or if I should do so myself. All my friends demand that I should have him court me since he’s older and not as gentle of birth.”

“To prove his worth, I see,” she said, mostly to herself. “I’m glad to know you’ve met a man you like, Hans. A philanderer you are not so this must be one hell of a man. Although his name is familiar.” Louise fiddled with her braid and clicked her tongue. “Flynn Rider, Flynn Rider… Ah! Like in the books!”

Hans blinked. He had expected her to hit or push him for associating with a notorious Mainland criminal. Instead, she clapped her hands and spoke more about some books. “Louise. Can you elaborate on that?”

“What?” She glanced at him before realization set in her expression. “Oh. I forgot. They weren’t published in your country, were they? Flynn Rider is the name of a character in the book series entitled ‘The Tales of Flynnigan Rider’. It’s about this man who leads an adventuresome life. With a pistol in his hand and a sword on his hip, Flynn Rider seems like he could conquer the whole wide world.”

Hans shifted uneasily in his seat. He was a bit puzzled by this new piece of information. No doubt this is the sort of tale that his Flynn would enjoy very much. “Is Flynn Rider a common name in Equis or Corona?”

“No. Not really,” Louise answered, eyeing him with slight concern. “It’s the kind of the name that would be made up for an anecdote. I’ve heard there’s a thief in Corona who goes by that name though. We believe he’s the one that broke into our palace couple of years ago but we’ve no solid evidence of his direct involvement.” She paused. “Hans, are you sure Flynn Rider is your man’s actual name? Of course, maybe the poor thing's parents were drunk when they called him and now that he's of higher class he deserves a better name. Good for him then!”

Hans could scarce believe what he was hearing. _Perhaps this is why Mother has her little spiders,_ he thought. It was one thing lying and scheming against Anna and Elsa; he didn’t mean to show more intimacy than necessary. It was different with Flynn, if that was his name, because he had Hans actually craving his attention.

Hans had also been truthful to him. He hadn’t lied to him once on their trip. He avoided questions of personal nature but he did not lie.

At the time, it felt good to speak freely to someone who doesn’t worry himself about court intrigue and politics. A breath of fresh air was what Flynn Rider was to him. Fresh air that would occasionally have his heart fluttering with delight. Now, for all he knew, Flynn could have been playing an even grander game than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very fun to write! Hope you guys don't mind me adding the Equis pair but I like to think that their and Han's mothers are friends and encouraged friendship between their own children. I haven't seen the second season of Tangled: The Series so I took what I knew about King Trevor and built on his family using my imagination and what I read in other works and saw in research material.
> 
> I'm trying to characterize Louise (and her brother by association) as Hans' family friends that have been an active presence in his life. Perhaps not as close as the Southern Isles gang but close enough. Compared to The Duke, who he shares actual blood with, Hans is much more familiar with the Equis pair than with him. Perhaps if I had wrote the fic in a different formatting then the behavioral difference would have been visible.
> 
> Still I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think! They are always appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

“… _I loved a boy, sailor boy, who promised me a ring,”_ he finished the song. Louise had shaken him up so badly he ended up spending the past hour sitting on the carpet with children hanging off him, demanding melodies. He had, good heavens, he had received such stares from lords and ladies but the commoners were glad to have a moment of quiet.

One of the common kids, a weasel of a girl with scruffy russet hair and a missing tooth, asked him, “Why are all of your songs related to water and sailors?”

“My entire homeland is surrounded by water. What did you expect?” Hans joked. The lowborn children were much more inquisitive than the highborn right beside them. There were more of them too since most nobles had left their babes at home. “I’m sure Marie liked my song. Did you?”

A bright-eyed girl, Marie was only six years old and already knew her manners to the letter. She nodded jerkily and said, “It’s a little sad but the melody is sweet.” The peasant girl, Elin, giggled and playfully punched her. The little noble took no offense but Hans saw that her father, a wealthy Belgian, shot Elin a sharp look from where he and his wife stood by the windows.

Little Lucia laughed when Marie pushed Elin off her. While their fun was very innocent, Hans could tell Marie’s father thought differently. Not that he could blame him. The girl squealed when suddenly scooped up by her father’s strong arms. “I hate to dampen the amicable mood but I think Marie’s mama and I would rather she be with us.”

“But papa!”

“No buts!” His voice thick with disapproval. “Why don’t you go and play with Lady La Rue’s daughters? If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness.”

Hans waved back at the little girl carried off, then he looked down at the confused faces of the lowborn Arendellian children who spoke no French whatsoever. Elin seemed particularly hurt. He crouched to them and explained, “Marie’s mama is a nervous woman and she wants to see her daughter. I think this sudden winter scared her very much.” The older ones were unconvinced but they resumed their antics once Hans told them he had to attend to some matters.

He didn’t really have urgent duties. He already dealt with them earlier but he did want some peace himself. Secluding himself to a quiet corner of the Great Hall, he observed the people. Him and his class occupied the area by the crackling fires, everyone else were closer to the doors.

Hans was comfortable with most laymen. Back home, he would talk way too much with them(according to his tutors and governess anyway). Hans loved wandering up and down ports and the Street of Steel where he would chat with anyone that caught his attention, be they highborn or not. Yet he was uneasy with the sheer amount of them here. In the hall. Within the castle. Hans went through great pains to let them inside, much to the anger of many.

 _Doesn’t matter,_ he thought. What mattered is that now the city folk had a good impression of him, not Elsa and Anna. Public opinion went a long way, in spite of what some aristocrats believed.

Hans shifted his weight from his left foot to the right, drinking lemon water. For a long while the only sounds were the children giggling to themselves with the steady murmurs of adults. Then, from outside the entrance down the hall, Hans heard a faint rhythm of boots.

Hans sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that stride. That quick, nimble stride that had been terrorizing him for the past few days. He heard other footsteps as well, the dignitaries trying to keep up.

Whatever chance of solitude Hans had hoped to have vanished once The Duke and the other nobles stood in front of him. He stared at the old man, guessing what he wished to discuss. “Good evening. Is everything alright?”

The Duke huffed, “Everything is still frozen.”

“Oh my,” Hans said slowly. “I appreciate you reminding me of that, my lord.” Hans got along with The Duke well enough. As a child he spent several summers splashing in the pools and fountains in Weselton, as an adolescent he would blush at every gesture of affection from Leopold, as an adult he had helped host them at Konigsburg. However, he didn’t currently feel very tolerant or patient with anyone.

The Duke shook his head but ushered Hans away into a warm, inviting parlor with silk cushions and a burning fireplace. As The Duke shuffled through his bag, Hans sized up the other men the room.

None were of great importance or interest to Hans. Some minor native nobles and high-ranking foreigners. The only one who had caught his eye was the Frenchman. A tall fellow with greasy black hair and quivering hands. From the first glance Hans did not like him.

It was bad enough he had that stupid overseer Kai breathing down his neck about the princess and the queen. Hans dug his fingers into the flesh of his palm. He had done everything that needed to be done. He had checked on the poor, fed those in the castles, humored the nobles, and groomed his precious Sitron. After a tiring day, Hans wanted to be left alone. “What is it?”

The German dignitary bristled, “I understand that you must be agitated but do mind your tone, Your Highness. You are the youngest man in here.”

 _Oh my goodness._ Crossing his arms and turning at the man, Hans said, “My lord, you forget yourself. You may be an earl but I am a prince. I am of the second-highest rank in this castle at the moment.”

He will admit, the way the old man reddened with anger was funny. It had been a while since he had been this bold with someone outside the family. _That’s a lie. I was downright mischievous with **him**._ Hans crushed down the treacherous mood in his chest and accepted the cup of wine offered by the good Duke.

The Duke beside them grew ever more satisfied. He leisurely sat down on the sofa, grinned, and said, “Ah, I see your astuteness is still intact. You were such a quick-witted boy and it’s good to see you grow into a clever man.” He turned his head at the German. “He’s definitely his mother’s son. Queen Kristina’s tongue is sharper than a blade.”

“Only incompetence can set my mother off,” Hans defended. His mother’s words were often cutting but no one outside the family had the right to point that out. “It doesn’t concern us right now. What did you want?”

The Duke shushed one of the men, clearly choosing to explain himself in his own words. “It actually does concern your mother, Prince Hans. Well, your father too. You see, I took it upon myself to spread the word outside the borders. The snow and ice hadn’t yet hit all of Arendelle.” He cracked his knuckle. “I sent out letters to be delivered to our families with details of this monstrous event.”

Hans shot the dignitaries a look. _Couldn’t stop him, could you? Spineless creatures._ “Why would you do that, my lord? To spread terror across Europe?” This event could very well set off fear-driven peasants. A farmer’s enemy is the cold and the very notion of an eternal winter would terrify them. Then suddenly, realization dawned on him. “The letters will reach my country the swiftest, won’t they?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” said the German. “If the skies are clear then the news should reach King Erik in four days’ time.”

“Father will be the first to hear,” Hans said. “Does anyone in this room remember my father’s opinion on such… things?”

“Prince Hans,” said the Frenchman. “We were hoping that perhaps King Erik could send suppli-“

“You want to use my father.” Hans walked towards them. “Do you think simply because my father is nearing sixty years of age that you could trick him into _sending supplies_ to Arendelle? I would rather freeze to death in a foreign land than drain my peoples’ resources for another realm.”

It was gloomy within the room and the clouds outside were dark and grey. If truth be told, Hans did not know what to do, any more than he knew that his parents would raise hell at the idea of a rival monarch with mythical powers.

He had a fleeting thought of killing Elsa himself during the party. Grandmother Maria knew her poisons and taught him a thing or two. Then Elsa ran away condemning the city to winter and Anna left Hans with unruly nobles who had no desire to submit to an Islander. “Get out. All of you get out!” Hans raised his voice, slammed his hand against the wall. The men all shuffled out the room.

All except one.

Still sitting on the sofa, The Duke drank his wine. He pulled out a simple golden ring and placed it on the table separating them. “A tone fit for a king,” he commented. “I suppose you would like to know why I wrote to your father?”

He sighed. It was one thing yelling at those Mainland oafs. It was entirely different with The Duke. He took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“I did so for my late wife,” he said at once.

“Your wife?” Hans asked.

“It is a pity you’ve never met her,” The Duke said, his words soft as a pillow. “I remember the day I wed her. I was twenty-nine years old and a widower and she, a delicate flower. She was frailer than a fallen autumn branch, my Augusta.”

The Duke of Weselton was old for as long as Hans had known him, but he seemed to have aged a hundred years in the past two nights. Hans had heard him complain about his bones but he now saw his thin trembling arms. “My uncle Ivar told me Duchess Augusta died in childbed.”

The Duke studied him carefully before turning away. “She did. She did and it was a witch’s fault. The reason my Augusta died was because some fortune teller convinced her that she needed to give me another heir to ensure my line continued. It’s because of that bitch my Augusta bled to death.”

Hans squirmed at the sheer amount of anger in The Duke’s voice. No woman in his family had passed away in childbirth for generations. Aunt Selma nearly did but she survived. Mother brought forth thirteen sons and watched them grow tall and healthy around her. He sometimes forgot that not all women were lucky and blessed. “I doubt Queen Elsa is the sort to meddle in such affairs.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right,” The Duke affirmed. “Yet I don’t want a literal ice monster walking about freely, let alone controlling potentially lucrative ports. She’s a threat to us. She’s a threat to mine and Augusta's children and grandchildren. And she’s a threat to King Erik’s children, one of which happens to be you. The last thing us old men want is the young generation being dominated by Agnarr’s cursed daughter.”

 “I understand your point but I still would have preferred if you had warned me before writing a letter to my father,” Hans said. “There’s no guarantee he’ll send any support. Father's not the most amicable of men.”

The Duke nodded. “True. But he is a decisive one.”

-

The snow burned against his skin. His thighs itched and itched and itched and they were only halfway up the mountain. Eugene cursed underneath his breath. _At least Hans is safe and sound in the city, warm and sheltered in a castle by a fire._ He’d be down there with him if it wasn’t for that black-haired bastard ringing that copper bell beside him. “Maybe keep it down, man?”

Valentin scoffed and stared, offended. “And let trolls eat us? No, thank you. I have ageing parents to care for and a brother to pester back home on Holmen.”

Eugene rolled his eyes at Valentin, who defended himself by telling him that the bell will keep trolls away. Something about them hating its pure clear sound, a sound he couldn’t care less about. He was cold. Hans had given him his spare clothes and a kiss on the cheek but even then, he shivered. _What I wouldn’t give to be back in my warm bed with Hans in my arms._ But no. He had to trudge up this bullshit mountain to the ringing of a stupid bell right behind him.

“Gentlemen! Look over there! I think that’s a cabin,” a man yelled from the front.

In the distance they saw a faint light; both Charles and Eugene insisted they enter. He had no idea why Charles wanted to go in but he personally wanted to get out of the cold even for a little bit. At the doorstep of this wooden cabin, Eugene couldn’t help but chuckle at the carved wooden trolls at either side of the doors. He imagined Hans would like them since he’d never seen a troll and was curious about them.

Just thinking about Hans made him smile. Eugene wondered what he was doing right now, whether or not he was with Weaselmann or hiding away in some far-flung room. Maybe he was eating lemon tarts or going over the food stock again.

Inside of the cabin, their odd group was greeted by a ridiculously friendly man called Oaken. So friendly in fact, Eugene wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be a madman. He had his fair share of interesting encounters and it was always the nicest thugs that were the most terrifying.

He scoped around the aisles for any fun thing to shoplift when he heard Charles and Valentin talk about leaving the cabin. “Guys,” he interrupted. “Can we take a break? Go into the sauna maybe? I mean, we have been walking uphill in clothes not suitable for snowdrifts. Snowdrifts that reach our thighs, may I remind you! What good will we be if by the time we find Princess Anna we’re frozen solid?”

Valentin smiled at him but the other men didn’t. “You just want to slack off, don’t you?” one man called out. “That’s to be expected from a nouveau riche,” mumbled another. Valentin frowned at them, his right foot digging into the floor.

Charles laughed heartily from the back. “That’s a fantastic idea, Rider!” he spoke genuinely. “Perhaps we can rest here for an hour or two to gather our strength before we face off with Her Majesty. He is right. No point in camping out higher up the mountain. Would that be alright, good sir?”

Oaken cheerfully replied, “I don’t mind! Though I do ask you to behave yourself since my family is in the sauna. Would you like to join them?”

Eugene would have loved to get inside a steamy sauna but Charles said, “No, but thank you for the offer.”

And that’s how their little group ended up sitting there on benches and stools, drinking beer and eating hot pies. Reminded Eugene of the taverns he’d visit when on the run. _The Snuggly Duckling_ was always a merry place to be even if most of the other criminals disliked Eugene.

Maybe he’ll drag Hans there one day. They could hate Eugene all they want but Hans is a charming young man. He’d probably manipulate them all into liking him. Or at the very least doing what he wanted. Hans would benefit in other ways too. He could learn more about common men who aren’t Southern Islanders or sailors.

Eugene sighed. If things were going to be serious, and for once he hoped they will, then he will actually have to meet the rest of the Westergaard brood. Properly introduce himself to Hans' parents and brothers. Also his cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents… It’ll definitely be a challenge but he was sure it would be fun. He managed to squeeze some childhood stories from Hans last night and it was wild.

He zoned out quite badly, only really getting back into reality when he heard insults be thrown around in hushed Italian. Two men, one short one tall, were gossiping to themselves. It had been some time since he last did a job in the Italian States but he understood the general gist of their conversation and was disgusted.

It truly felt like he was in a tavern somewhere in Corona. The sleazy remarks on Katherine’s breasts and hips, the insulting of Lucia’s plumpness and calling Margarethe a ‘stone cold bitch’ since she rarely smiled in Arendelle. They even talked shit on Valentin who was in this very room joking with Charles. And Hans, who Eugene knew treated everyone politely.

“We can’t blame them though. They are island-born and God only knows how they raise their sons and daughters there,” the tall one said.

“Even so, that island prince is an absolute disaster. He’s got twelve older brothers and a living father yet he acts as if he was raised by women. Not interested in ladies or alcohol, the snob,” the short added. “So much ambition wasted on a savage, uncultured Southern Islander. I don’t understand why both princesses pay such attention to him.”

“Because he’s rich, dummy. The Westergaard Family is one of Europe’s wealthiest all because of their massive trade.” The tall one paused, “The prince is just as pretty as those girls he brought with him though. I bet he’d look lovely on his knees.”

Eugene’s mouth formed a tight-lipped smile. He cocked his head and told them, “Or maybe the princesses like him because he’s knightly and doesn’t speak ill of others. And I think he looks better standing tall.” The two men stared at him, eyes wide and cheeks red. “That’s right. This humble nouveau-riche is fluent in Italian.”

Valentin paused his jokes. He looked at Eugene with slight confusion and Eugene didn’t know what bewildered him more, the fact that he spoke Italian or the men insistently apologizing to him. Valentin sat back beside Eugene but this time Charles joined them. He chuckled, “What’s that all about and also, you understand Italian?”

Snorting, Eugene said, “I am a man of many talents, dear friend.” He looked up at Charles. “They slandered Katherine and Margarethe and Lucia and Hans. Especially lanky over there, the whoreson.”

Charles hummed. “And they bid you to not share this with Hans?” Eugene confirmed and Charles took a deep breath. “It’s a shame that other countries are bitter about The Southern Isles’ swift rise to richness.”

“Our country may be rich but we have our own issues as well, Mainlander,” Valentin jested. “Foreign sailors from faraway lands bring diseases to our cities. Remember when the pox had Southern Islanders dropping dead like flies? That was absolutely awful, considering both Hans and I almost died of it. Margarethe too.”

Eugene coughed uncomfortably. He didn’t expect rich kids to catch sicknesses that festered in dirty slums. Eugene never had the pox, thankfully, but he did suffer from pneumonia. It happened when he was ten but recalling the experience of it had Eugene rubbing his chest. A quarter of his orphanage caught the pox though, and most died from it. _That_ memory of those pus-filled sores and those horrid scars had his skin crawling.

He glanced back up at Valentin, strong and hale Valentin. He thought about last night and Hans’ pale skin was not marred by ugly scars. Not even a little bit. The only man he saw recently with marked skin was young Aage, who was actually Eugene’s peer. The scars, though faded, were still visible. Reflecting on him, Eugene regretted calling him ‘Poxy’. He really, really did. The pox was a horrible disease and he can understand why Hans was a bit annoyed by the nickname Eugene created. _I wouldn’t have called Hans ‘Poxy’, would I?_ Eugene thought. _God, I wish I was in the city with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally...an update...  
> Man this chapter was a tricky beast! I had four other drafts for this can you believe it?
> 
> First point of clarification, Eugene canonically speaks Italian. He mentioned it once in the first season of Tangled: The Series and I double checked so it makes sense that he understands what is being said. Second point, I have been taking more and more creative liberties with worldbuilding in general but especially so with The Southern Isles. I'm a first year history student and am exposed to a lot of cool (and at times horrifying) historical events/quirks/activities so I add them to my story. I hope you guys don't mind but don't worry everything is set in the 19th century I just throw in an occasional modified Medieval custom here and there. Though The Southern Isles is still heavily based on Denmark, if not just its equivalent.
> 
> The Duke of Weselton is both a pain and a delight to write. I do try to keep him consistent throughout the chapters but I have given him a softer edge since we mostly see him through Hans' POV and Hans obviously knows him better than Elsa and Anna did in the film. I imagine The Duke as also a scheming plotter like Hans but perhaps a tad better because he's lived so long and has more experience outsmarting some poor bastards.
> 
> I'll try to post the next chapter quicker but no promises since my assignment deadlines have me at literal gunpoint. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please leave me a comment telling me what you think! I appreciate them a great deal I'm just very bad at responding them but I do read them constantly and they always get me in my writing spirit!


	18. Chapter 18

Living a life of thievery and adventures, Eugene saw a lot of unusual people and rare things. However, he had never met an ice witch and had never seen a staircase made of ice. Until now, that is.

He and the other men left the cabin once the sun began to rise, by the time they reached the cliffside the light already splashed across the land. Eugene continued staring at the damn stairs. Maybe they can hold the weight of a stick-thin princess but he was convinced that they’ll shatter should he or anyone else in their group walk up them. The horses were out of the question.

Of course, his opinion doesn’t really matter. Charles had taken leadership and all Eugene does is begrudgingly follow.

He and Eugene were chosen to be the first to cross, Eugene started his climb when he heard the lack of jests or jokes. He turned his head and there was Valentin, hugging himself and glaring at the path in horror. “Val,” he called out. “Are you, is everything alright?” Valentin, plainly, was having a tough time.

Valentin laughed nervously and shook his head. “It’s too high. I can’t. It’s too high! Can mountains even be this tall? Is that legal? I don’t think it is. Not on Holmen.” Any trace of lightness and mirth left Valentin, just fear remained in his voice and Eugene sighed. He reached out his hand and Valentin asked, “What’s that for?”

“I’ll guide you,” he explained. “You don’t even have to look. Just close your eyes and I’ll get us safely up the stairs.” Valentin’s swallowed and grabbed Eugene’s hand, holding it tight. “Let go of your horse now. Very good, Val. I won’t let you fall, it’s easy, don’t worry. Another step now. That’s it, move your foot just like that. Now another. And another. We’ll soon be there safe and sound. Another step, go on.” Little by little, Eugene helped his quivering friend up the stairs.

Once they reached the top, Eugene called out to Charles and turned around to face their foe. He couldn’t help letting out an awed gasp. The castle was a beautiful thing, with spiraling towers and light streaming through its walls. It almost radiated a heavenly glow. He looked over to Valentin, who still had his eyes shut, and said, “Come look, the castle is a pretty thing.”

“I,” Valentin breathed out. “I want to get over this as soon as possible. I am of the sea and we are too far from it.”

“Valentin, calm down and open your eyes. I won’t let anything bad happen to you this high up so just relax,” Eugene said. He smiled at Valentin once he opened his left eye but regretted it when Charles screamed.

It took Eugene a moment to realize that behind them, down the stairs, was a very angry misshapen creature made of snow. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” The horses neighed and bucked in fear. Not that he blamed them because _what the actual fuck is that?_ Beside him, Valentin grabbed at his revolver and fired three bullets at the beast. Eugene was more of a swordsman himself but no way he was going to duel that hideous creature with his trusty sabre.

He would have been happier if those bullets would have caused some pain to that thing. Charles yelled, “Get inside! Find the Queen and the Princess! We’ll handle the beast!” Eugene nodded, grasped Valentin’s hand and ran inside.

Valentin fiddled with his gun when Eugene spotted Elsa, pacing several floors above them. “Up there!” She must have nearly snapped her neck at his shout before running, her blue dress flowed as she escaped higher up at the sight of them. He took hold of his sword and chased after her. _When did she find a new dress? At the lodge?_

They cornered the queen in a room filled with golden light. She turned at them, stared like a hunted animal, and exclaimed, “No, please!” Eugene felt slight relief when he realized she wasn’t going to immediately pierce them like the meat skewers sold in market stalls. He opened his mouth, wanting to strike up a conversation when an arrow was shot at Elsa, followed by a bullet.

Eugene kicked Valentin’s shin and took his gun. “Hey, sorry about that! My friend won’t shoot anymore, I promise!” Eugene apologized. Hans had asked him to come back in one piece and Eugene really wanted to achieve that without having to murder a woman. Considering his luck though he might have to do just that.

The old Duke’s men circled Elsa, firing their god damned arrows at her. Valentin had gotten up and pulled out another revolver but Eugene snapped at him. “Your Majesty! How about we all sit down and,” he halted. Then shouted, “Your Majesty let’s not bloody our hands!”

One of the men hung at the wall with ice threatening to cut his throat clean while the other was being pushed off the balcony. He was so shocked at the sight that he did not even notice how Valentin took back his first revolver and shot at the spike nearing the man’s throat, ice shattering like broken glass. Elsa turned back and glared at Valentin. Eugene saw that the other of the Duke’s men crawled from behind the barrier to safety.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“My excellent prince commanded we go find your sister, The Princess Anna.” Valentin’s finger was on the trigger. “Her horse returned to the city. Alone.”

Elsa’s eyes widened in horror. “What do you mean she didn’t return? I sent her back home with her companion.”

Eugene piped in, “Your sister went back to the city with a what? A companion? What kind?”

“Lady Elsa,” said Valentin, “you will submit yourself and let us return you to the city, else I shall take my guns-”

“Lord Reenberg,” came the command from behind. “Do be gentle. I will speak with her.” Charles’ voice was hoarse, out of breath. Valentin clutched at his revolvers but stepped to the side. Elsa graced him with a lingering last look before slightly lowering her hands. “Queen Elsa, I would be eternally grateful if you would ride with us back to civilization. We both have sisters, don’t we? Your sister, Princess Anna, is missing. My sister, Princess Louise, is worried sick back in the city. Noble Prince Hans, as great as he is, cannot maintain peace without official authority. After all, he was never trained to rule Arendelle and now he is managing it through a crisis.”

Elsa hissed, “How can I trust you and Prince Hans? Your fathers were not known to get on well with mine.”

“Your father didn’t give us any reason to trust him!” Charles shouted. “Locked himself up in a castle, refused any and every invitation sent his way, as if he was hiding a creature or a beast! If you want people’s support, then don’t be the monster they fear you are!”

Eugene watched how she reluctantly considered Charles’ words. Elsa glittered in the light, her dress sparkled as her chest heaved laboriously. Elsa was young. She’s a lot to learn, probably. Eugene, admittedly, knew little of queens and princesses. The only queen he honestly had any proper interaction sat in the hallow halls of Konigsburg Palace and wanted his head. That woman forced Eugene to feel like a wounded animal, much like Elsa now looked more like a frightened deer about to be shot and killed.

Perhaps Weselton’s man must have noticed that too, when he fired his arrow and the chandelier went crashing down.

-

He dreamt of Mother, petting his hair in the Green Parlor. The visitors today, some frivolous foreigners, were brightly colored rats spouting false promises and sweet lies. Mother listened patiently, holding him close to her breast while his brothers fought with wooden soldiers at her feet. She’d smile and sing and please just enough to lure them into the trap, then Father would break their necks. Like the dogs did during hunts.

The walls melted. The portraits, the curtains, the sofas, the pillows all faded away until Hans found himself on a ship beneath the starless sky. The floors squeaking and screeching under his leather shoes. He heard Albert and Mia laugh, followed by a loud thump. Running to the stern of the ship, the entire deck was occupied by his family. His brothers and cousins were dancing and screaming, his mother and aunts watched over them as they sipped champagne. He wanted to rush to Grandmother Maria, have her kiss him and maybe give him a lemon cake but Uncle Ivar picked him up and twirled him in the air. “Where were you, little starfish? Your papa had been searching for you in the forecabins for a full hour!” Uncle Ivar grinned, tossing him up and down until Aunt Selma warned him not to drop Hans into the sea.

Soon after Uncle Ivar plopped him down, Hans felt a soothing arm run down his back. Warm, gentle kisses peppered his face and neck. He no longer heard the adults murmur, no brothers joking and no cousins giggling, no musicians playing on the dais followed by the steady rhythm of tapping feet, the air did not smell of salt and smoke. Here it was quiet. Here the scent of wine and sweat filled the room as he felt someone pull him to their chest. It wasn’t Mother nor Father embracing him, he’d recognize them at once if it were. It wasn’t family at all, he realized. Hans tilted his face up and Flynn Rider smiled at him, caressing his face, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

His voice still echoed in Hans’ ears when a light touch on his shoulder woke him from his sleep. For a moment, the touch felt as if it was part of the dream and Hans jumped up from his chair, but it was only Lucia informing him of the search party’s return.

Running a hand through his head, he grimaced. Hans could feel it become oilier than he liked and hated it. He was tired enough already. Tired from constantly stomping down an odd, ugly feeling crawling up his gut that had been present for hours now. He would have liked to take a hot bath, scorching water cleansing him of the ache in his bones. Alas, that was not meant to be. At least he had Lucia, who had forced him to drink a tall glass of lime-flower water before entering the dungeons, promising him it’ll help with his state.

The cell was cold, dark. Grimmer than Rider’s in Old Castle. Hans carried with him an oil lamp but the flame couldn’t warm him.

The woman stared out the window, her hands in chains. Chains clearly made for her. Hans had noticed that gloves, somehow, diminished her powers and Margarethe was quick to point out that these chains were unlike any other in the dungeons. _King Agnarr and his wife must have commissioned these to be tailored to their daughter._ _Flynn’s chai- Rider’s chains or any regular handcuffs would not suffice._

She walked towards him. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I couldn’t just let them kill you,” he said. He could have, technically. In fact, Hans believed Valentin would have been more pleased had he permitted him to eliminate her.

Raising her hands, she insisted, “But I’m a danger to Arendelle. Get Anna!”

“Anna has not returned.” Elsa turned to face the window. “If you would just stop the winter, bring back summer. Please.”

“Don’t you see?” She half-whispered and looked at him, brokenhearted. “I can’t. You have to tell them to let me go.”

 _No no no no no,_ he thought. He couldn’t care less about either Anna or Elsa. Well, Anna for the most part had done no harm and her rank made her valuable, but Elsa did not matter to him. As the Duke said, Elsa’s being alive was threatening. _Klaus is to become king in the coming future and how is he to rule peacefully with her around? How are any of us to live happily with her among us?_ Still, ever the perfect prince, Hans answered diplomatically, “I will do what I can.”

The dignitaries all but assaulted him upon his arrival. Each with their own questions, demands, and ideas they felt they needed to raise. Hans rolled his eyes and silently pleaded Lucia and Margarethe to herd them away, which they did. He was a blessed man, to have female companions with such useful talents. Hans would have to thank them both later, perhaps with jewelry or accompanying them to a trip to Frue Isaksdatter.

“They will return, you know? I bet in larger numbers too.”

Flynn Rider stood by the windows on leather boots laced up to his knees. His hair was a messy mop that framed his face, and in his hand was a small figurine. Hans frowned. He had seen Valentin in the halls on his way to meet with the witch, so he had known Rider was also lurking somewhere close. He hadn’t expected to see him so soon though. “Red, I’ve a gift for you,” he announced as he walked up to him. He waved the wooden toy shaped like nothing Hans had ever seen in his life. “It’s a troll! Since you’ve never laid your pretty eyes on one. Do you like it?” Hans fought the urge to smile and stared at the cheap thing in his hands, wondering who it was stolen from and when. “Red? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Although I would’ve liked it better if you weren’t here.”

“Why?” Rider sounded hurt. “Oh. Wait. I forgot that you like your space. I bet those nobles and Weaselton were annoying as fuck, weren’t they?” Hans held his breath at Rider’s cusping his face. “Wanna chat about it?”

Hans’ throat was dry. He pulled away from the other’s touch and returned the little troll carving back to Rider, as much as he loathed to do so. “You know, the Princess of Equis told me about the most delightful books on the Mainland.” He strode to the windows and looked at the horizon, at the frozen sea. “Perhaps you’ve heard of ‘The Tales of Flynnigan Rider’ I hear the author’s way with words is enchanting. I should think you would like such tales and his name is so similar to yours, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frue- Danish word for Madame/Frau.
> 
> Ha hey I hope you guys liked this chapter! For the first time in a while I had to pull out the movie script and rewatch the movie! Hopefully, I executed it well since it was a bit tricky to modify the chapter and also action scenes are a BITCH to write. I do apologize if the scene with Marshmallow and Elsa was messy because it really is hard to put action-y moments into details.
> 
> Also, I don't think we as a fandom appreciate Hans' efforts enough. Can you imagine the amount of nonsense he had to dodge from nobles (native and foreign) to make sure that Arendelle's citizens, you know, didn't die? He must be tired from dealing with nobles, executing his schemes, and in this fic having to deal with his emotions. 
> 
> Again, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a comment telling me what you think! No matter how many times I receive and read them, they always help me when I'm writing!


	19. Chapter 19

“I would like an explanation.” Hans turned away from the glass and forced himself to smile. “I’m not intimate with Coronan culture and I could have potentially misunderstood Princess Louise. I was always encouraged to read Southern Islander literature instead. Although,” he added, “that never stopped me from raiding the higher shelves of Grandfather’s collection. Still, it could be a misunderstanding nonetheless.” He doubted that was the case. Hans was no idiot. He wasn’t a meek cow that easily submitted to the will of others. “So? We haven’t got all day, Rider.”

Flynn Rider raised a single brow. He reached out his hand to stroke Hans’ face but halted at the last moment. “Something brought me here to you, Red. Call it what you will. Fate or destiny-”

“Or a crime,” said Hans. “And I made the decision to trust you.” He clicked his tongue dismissively.

“A horrible decision, really.” Flynn smirked. “An especially bad one coming from the Prince of the Southern Isles. What do royals teach their sons?”

He wanted to slap him for that. Hans would sooner drive a sword through himself than betray his birth. When had Coronans ever brought anything with them but sorrow? They killed Joakim’s sons in the revolt, and before that their king rejected Mary of Altenkirchen, condemning her to a life of misery and humiliation.

Rider was no different. Just like the King of Corona, he’d spin sweet words and promises before snipping the thread and leave for another. “Loyalty,” he answered. “I was taught to be loyal to the House of Westergaard. We trace back our lineage to Maron the Unifier’s day. They say his wife was born a Westergaard,” he paused. “Obviously, you’ve no idea what it’s like to be a part of the grander picture. To be a child of a great house is to be a part of a legacy left by our forefathers. You live for yourself.”

No answer came from Flynn Rider. Hans stood his ground firmly, clad in the velvet coat his aunt had gifted him. All light and mirth left the man’s face as he took a step closer to Hans. “You think yourself special, don’t you?” Flynn took him by the arm, hurting him. “And what if I’m some worthless orphan? I didn’t choose to be a baseborn son of a whore! Just like you weren’t destined to be born in a palace! While you spent your days fooling around behind those walls and fences, I was exploring the world! Carving an identity!”

“It’s not that simple, you idiot!” Hans exclaimed, pulling back. “Being a prince isn’t just dress-up and champagne. It’s a political hellscape! I’d like to see you try study every day of the week on top of smiling, singing, and pleasing everyone. Unless you play your cards right, you only get a few glittering moments in the sun before you’re cast out into the shadows!” Hans spat. He’d seen his fair share of men and women living lonely lives once they’ve lost their youth and beauty. He refused to join their sad existence.

“Well, it’s not my fault!” Rider shouted back. “Think on the bright side! You were never truly cold or starved in your entire life. Your station should have left wanting for nothing!” He swung his arm and pushed Hans aside. Rider shot him a look gleaming with fury before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Suddenly the chamber was too quiet for him to endure. Hans, in a fit, kicked the iron pokers by the fireplace and sent them flying across the floor. The room rang to the song of metal clashing. He flinched.

Shaking his head, he slowly picked up the iron rods and put them back in their rightful place _._ As Hans raised himself, he glimpsed a gaggle of children yelling outside, their chubby cheeks burning from the cold. The oldest of them, a skinny, snub-nosed girl stuck her tongue out as she pushed a plump boy into the snowdrift. It cheered Hans that not everyone’s day was this awful.

It appeared his passion-filled fling had come to an end. Hans supposed it would have been cut short one way or another. He wasn’t a petty city commoner who could do as he wished. He travelled to the country for kingship. Katherine could spin her yarns about taking the crown without a bride all she wants but the Duke also wanted it for his own kin. Whoever wed Anna would hold the key to Arendelle.

She was a novelty. No one had seen her (or her sister) in many years and whispers grew about them. Ugly and misshapen, cast aside for a bastard brother, or that they were slow of wit. Courtiers were creative like that.

Turned out the rumors were nonsensical. Anna was sweet and kind, if naïve. Hans did not find her particularly interesting but that was not her fault. There were nobles who weren’t exactly well-educated and she happened to be one of them. It didn’t matter anyway. Hans could certainly handle all the state affairs by himself and Anna could chip in for ceremonial festivities. And the Southern Isles would expand its reach.

Despite all these grand ambitions, Hans would miss his current life. Being the youngest absolutely had its advantages. Sure, he hated being undermined but Hans also enjoyed his alone time and he also loved dancing until exhausted beneath the lights of gilded chandeliers. It was fortunate that some days were so crowded back home that a mere few of his escapades came to notice. Any young lady would surely adore the opera or the club. Perhaps Anna would as well. The Duchess Xenia frequented a certain establishment by the eastern docks; Hans hadn’t had the chance to visit it yet.

He had wanted to take Rider there but that was before he had paced to and fro in anxiety.

 _I’m wrecking myself over a man I’ve known for less than a season. Keep it together, Hans Westergaard Erikson!_ He opened the windows, the chill air cooling his cheeks. “If my heart aches this painfully from a stupid spring revel then I don’t know how Princess Karoline lives every day.” _A fine match she’s in but a disastrous marriage._

Hans watched the children at their games. It reminded him of his days in the gardens with Valentin and the girls. Karl often told him that laughter was the cure to any ailment but Hans couldn’t find it in himself to even smile. Not even a little bit.

The peace was disturbed by the pounding at the door. Hans rolled his eyes, expecting Rider to stroll in and yell some more. He was more than surprised to see the princess, pale and weak, practically dragging herself to him.

-

Eugene took another shot when Margarethe smacked the glass away, breaking it into a hundred little pieces. He groaned. Eugene was already upset with the whole situation and he needed a drink. His mind raced through _thousands_ of different ways they could have handled it better. Both of them were at fault, he knew. But he wasn’t drunk enough yet to go talk about it again.

He lowered his gaze, and the sight greeting him snapped him right back into a state sobriety. The courteous Baroness was red in the face and out of breath. Flyaway hairs stuck to her forehead, her gloved hands shook as she hissed, “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Eugene asked.

“Rider!” Margarethe yelled. “The witch! She’s disappeared. Vanished! My gracious prince toiled over this Kingdom of Heretics and the person who damned us is absent from her cell! She’s vile that’s what she is!” Eugene had never witnessed any of the island ladies display such raw emotion but he could understand her perspective. Margarethe never genuinely trusted the people at the coronation, ardently supported Hans, and wanted to go home the most. And Eugene had a history of breaking out of cells, which made it no secret why she hounded after him first.

Eugene offered her a clean handkerchief he pickpocketed and Margarethe accepted. She wiped her face yet continued to breathe with difficulty. “That beastly wench will kill us. I know she will,” Margarethe cried, hands clutching at the cloth. “Several days ago, she nearly pierced me with that ice of hers. And now that she’s out who knows what’ll happen!” Margarethe kicked a nearby chair. “Coming to this realm was a mistake. No, King Agnarr keeping her was a mistake. She’s cursed.”

Margarethe’s watery eyes held such spite. Eugene recognized the feeling. The first time he was almost killed left him in an odd medley of emotions. He didn’t sleep nor eat unless Lance forced the food down his throat or tied him to his bed. What he did do was boil with rage whenever another thief spoke with him. No doubt Margarethe experienced the same regarding her fellow noblewoman.

Eugene had her sit down on his chair. Once she calmed down a bit, he offered her a cup of wine. Probably not the best way to soothe a woman bubbling with fury but it was _a_ way. She nodded in gratitude and wiped at her eyes. Margarethe gulped it all it two swift swallows. “Thank you,” she gasped.

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” he said. “You reacted calmly on that night from when you were almost impaled. Maybe too calmly. Was that all for show?”

She laughed but there was no humor in it. “What kind of a lady would I be if I wasn’t capable of controlling myself in high society? My governess used to beat me when I caused a scene. Why do you think I’m so good-mannered? It’s all due to my beloved governess’ work.” She smiled adoringly. Eugene was also beat as a child whenever he caused mayhem. He never enjoyed it. And he certainly didn’t like the old nurse who did it. “Say, didn’t you want to meet up with our prince?”

“Your prince, not mine,” he corrected. He took another chair and fell onto it. “We had a, uh, we had an argument. It ended badly. I made an unwanted remark and Red snapped,” he paused. “I guess at least his family won’t have to worry about a baseborn man mingling in their crowd.”

Margarethe hummed, poured herself another. “Whatever your remark was it must have been terrible. He’s a proud creature, just like all Westergaards are but that’s to be expected. They are lions made of fire and gold.” She smiled. “Hans does have a flare for being dramatic. I suspect it arose as a technique to receive attention and it stuck. I’m guilty of that myself; what a bratty child I was whenever my older brothers were too busy to spend time with me. It's no mystery why my governess had to be stark.”

He was honestly surprised that it was Margarethe was open with him. They shared one pathetic dance and an awkward conversation in the parlor yet she was very kind to him. And she followed social norms to the letter and hated ‘disagreeable’ behavior more than anyone. Then again, Valentin and Katherine were most likely with Hans while Lucia was with the children. “His words were harsh.”

“He doesn’t mean it. Not truly,” she stated. “Katherine may be the closest thing to a sister he ever had but I am the confidante. Believe me when I say that our dear prince fancies you. A lot. Have you never felt such strong emotions in your life in such a short period of time?”

Eugene pursed his lips. “Margarethe. I’m twenty-five years old and I’m a thief. Long-term relationships and crime don’t mix very well.”

Margarethe leaned back, her eyes shone in the darkness. She looked at him for a moment before saying, “Alright, let me rephrase that. Do you like him?”

“Of course, I do!” Eugene said immediately. “He’s such a delight to be around and the songs he sings and the ridiculous amount of knowledge he has on fashion is endearing in weird manner, you know?” Eugene rubbed at his nape, not really wanting to tell Margarethe about his false name. She was a good woman but also a strict woman. “Don’t get angry with me but Hans is such a bitch. I like him so much it hurts but he does act like a bitch every now and then. It's not a bad thing! But when he’d come by to see me in the dungeons, he’d always have a smug grin on his face. I’m a hundred percent sure if Hans died without fulfilling his ambitions, he would just will himself back to life.”

She sighed. “I mean. Under those guidelines you’d fall into the same category as His Highness.”

“I never said I wasn’t one too, my lady.”

Margarethe snorted. She poured herself another glass of wine and drank it all. “I came here to scream at you because the witch was missing and the storm brews outside. Yet it seems I stayed here to discuss your romantic failures.” She waved her hand when he opened his mouth. “Evidently, you two need to set thing straight. How about you protect me from Elsa, wherever she may be, and I will force Hans to sit down and have a proper conversation with you about everything?” She rose to her feet, the satin shawl draped over her shoulders gave her the appearance of a wise woman. "Under no circumstances are you to let any harm come to my person, alright? I still need to find a husband. For that I need to be whole and beautiful."

“You also have to still like me after we leave Arendelle,” Eugene added. "Then I will do my very best to protect the most excellent and wise Baroness Lund." He knew he had to tell Hans his birthname if he ever wanted to build anything with him. That also meant Hans’ circle would also know; Eugene had grown too fond of Margarethe to even bear having her loathe him.

Her expression soured with suspicion but she said, “An odd request but sure. You’ve surprised me plenty in our time together, Mr. Rider. You’re halfway decent of a thief and quite charming for a man of your status.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wise woman- A medieval concept but basically a respected woman who performs magic and rituals and gives helpful advice... (like a good witch but technically not a witch)
> 
> Oh my god I can't believe I actually managed to write this chapter! This was such a pain to write but we did it guys. We actually did it. 
> 
> Margarethe is such a darling, I love her. While she definitely has her flaws, what with the anti-continent tendencies and suspicion, she's a good friend! She's just more preoccupied with her tight little circle and would much rather defend it and its integrity than let some shady criminal dally within it. But as you can see, she's warming up to Flynn! As with Hans, well, he's not in the best of moods and it's about to get even more complicated.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please tell me what you think! These comments go a LONG way and honestly give me so much strength to keep on working on this story!


	20. Chapter 20

Eugene hated the snow.

He never liked it and he never will. The anger bubbling in his chest spread across his entire being as he realized that ice and snow covered every inch of the city only confirmed his hatred. Eugene did not leave a decrepit orphanage to die like a dog on a highway and be buried by winter. He was young too! He still had places he wanted to see on his list, like the Americas and the fancy estate that Hans’ grandparents owned. For years he dreamt of walking through a lord’s grand halls as a proper guest and he refused to kick the bucket before that happened, especially with a misunderstanding lodged between him and Hans.

It was funny, really. Eugene’s line of work made relationships difficult and it had been a good long while since he last held a person in his arms for more than a night. Even longer still with someone who didn’t demand coin in return. Yet here he was wanting to make certain that a privileged and somewhat entitled man knew that Eugene thought of him more than a fling or a conquest.

“Both of my brothers command ships, you know,” Margarethe told him. “Niels captains a barque that he named _Frue Viktoria_ in honor of our mother and Gustaf’s is called _Aurora._ His first voyage took him to Saint Petersburg during its white nights.” Eugene grew fond of her stories, though they did not make his heart pound with exhilaration, they had their charm. Whereas Lucia spoke of adventures that stuck with a person for months, Margarethe shared a more domestic feeling. “One of King Erik’s aunts actually wed a Russian, a tsarevich no less. Although Mother told me that the title is now archaic thanks to the Pauline house laws. I like the sound of it though. Tsarevich.” She murmured the last word shyly to herself.

For all that Margarethe worried about dying a maid unwed, Eugene did not think it would be an issue. She ticked off all the criteria a woman needed to have to be suitable (criteria he heard from herself too) and she was pretty. Margarethe was taller and her face longer than what most girls probably would have liked but she had nice cheekbones and played the piano.

Her face lit up, in a way Eugene learned meant that she had thought of something happy, and asked, “You’ve travelled far and wide as a thief, right? Have you ever been to the Russian Empire then?”

“I’ve been to Moscow,” he answered, excited to share his adventures. “A lovely city but too cold for my taste. I prefer it in summer! The flowers bloom and the skies aren’t a depressing grey color. The shops work longer hours as well. Oh! There’s a fantastic book shop located right next to the Spassky Bridge that you might like. Hans would like it, I know he will. Isn’t he reading Pushka’s works right now?”

“Pushkin, not Pushka,” she corrected. “One of the King’s Russian cousins sends him a copy of a literary magazine; I only know this because both Hans and Harald won’t stop discussing the current work being published in it. I think it’s about some rebellion that occurred in the seventies over there. I've learned that Hans will read anything he can get his hands on. I should assume he had already read through over a half of the literature in Konigsburg Palace’s library. He, Ethan, and Markus are in a tiff about who will inherit their father’s book collection, actually.”

“Ethan’s not a very Southern Islander name, is it? Sounds more French or English to me.”

“His first name is Southern Islander, that’s what matters. It is old-fashioned, I’ll admit, so I can see why the prince goes by Ethan. It’s trendy.”

“Are you implying the man has more than one name?” Eugene raised a brow. Lance told him once that rich folk gave their babies half a dozen names or something like that. Eugene just cheered his friend before downing a shot of gin but now he actually considered that fun fact. “Is just Margarethe your name?” _Is just Margarethe your name._ _Fantastic job, Eugene. You sound just like an idiot peasant and that’s the impression you want to give off in these trying times._

“I have more than one name, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s up to the parents to see to how many their babe will have,” she said.

“How many names does Hans have then?”

I know that but I won’t tell you.” She turned her head to him. “You’ll find out for yourself once you reconcile.”

He was ready to whine and complain to her until she grew tired but a sudden rush of cold air raised his hackles. He pulled Margarethe closer to himself just in case any icicles began to pop up like daisies in a spring meadow. Eugene hated the cold and wanted to pester more than he wanted to fight but he won’t have a young woman impaled while under his protection. He might be a good-for-nothing thief but he had a sliver of honor. He hoped.

Eugene quickly placed his hand on his sword, scanning the area. If he were Elsa, he would be furious or at the very least afraid. _She wouldn’t be hiding. She’d be trying to leave the city and to do that she’d have to run in the open. Also, I’m searching for a woman in a sparkly blue dress, not for a rabbit in the woods. Shouldn’t be too difficult._  He paused once he felt Margarethe stiffen. His eyes follower to where her long delicate finger pointed at and, in a hushed tone, said, “What is that in the distance?”

Despite the wind gaining strength and snow rising, he still saw a truly bizarre sight. _What the actual fuck?_ Margarethe lifted her shawl to shield her and Eugene from the snow though Eugene declined. He was genuinely shocked at the fact that some bastard (who definitely was not a city dweller nor a farmer) was riding across a god damn fjord on a reindeer, of all animals. He snapped his head to where the reindeer was heading and cursed under his breath.

A menacing storm gathered. Eugene spent enough days on the road to know that those types of winds blocked the view of absolutely everything and Eugene was not sure if they’d be able to get back inside the castle on time. That is if the castle wasn’t frozen from the inside out yet.

Katherine, Lucia, Valentin, and Hans were somewhere in that castle but so was Elsa. Probably. Margarethe did tell him she was missing and the castle was not too far. “Listen, no matter what, don’t let go of my hand until we’re inside. I won’t be able to find you if you do, not with the approaching shitshow. We’ll run to the castle it’s like five minutes away. We’ll be fine.” Margarethe lips and grip tightened, the latter so hard that Eugene worried she might accidentally break the bones in his hand. “It’s ok. I promised to do my very best to protect you, remember?”

-

It took a lot of strength to not flinch away from the woman. He had been aware that Arendelle was more… familiar with oddities, especially with trolls. However, this was a bit much.

Hans was brought up Christian. Hans was brought up educated. Educated men were to judge things in an analytical manner but nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him. No tutor or clergyman or servant ever mentioned a book or a passage or a tale that spoke of people turning white, hair and all. “What? What do you- why are you this pale? You’re so cold.”

Anna, shivering, brushed the questions aside. Her servants left the chamber, which Hans could not help but consider to be insolent. And the mere sight of the overseer chafed him. “Elsa struck me with her powers.”

“You said she’d never hurt you.”

She crumbled, like a surreptitious paper about to be given to the flames. “I was wrong. She froze my heart and only an act of true love can save me.”

“A true love’s kiss,” Hans confirmed.

Although a rare occurrence in the present, Amanda would often tell them stories of legendary heroes back in their nursery. Two of the most famous of them, Maron and Hans’ favorites, were Alvilda the Brave and Ulfr the Wolf-King. Some stories say that Alvilda began to truly pay attention to Ulfr once he presented her with a gift made by the Sons of Ivaldi after courting her for months. Amanda claimed it was a golden key while Karl insisted it was a jeweled bell. “And the Wolf-King kissed his Hjelmen bride and they lived happily ever after,” Amanda would end before kissing him and his brother good night. But the governesses and tutors insisted the nanny’s stories were simply that. Stories.

Anna was sweet. After hearing countless men share completely unsolicited bride-picking advice he believed that she would make a good spouse. Some relatives might dislike a girl that thin and with ‘such narrow hips’ for it would prove grievous when in comes to bringing heirs into the world. The belief was not consistent, however, and he knew that perfectly. Aunt Selma proved it false herself.

A lock of the princess’ strawberry hair turned white and his thoughts halted. _It appears that the House of Agnarr is dropping like flies. No wonder my kin is against witchcraft._ He took Anna’s chin in his hand and smiled just like he was taught to smile. Hans leaned in, feeling the coldness radiating off her body. Just one kiss and the crown would be secured to his house. One little kiss. One tiny little kiss. _I can’t. She’s already at Death’s door and it would be crueler than necessary. True love comes with time. Just like it did for Alvilda and Ulfr. For Mother and Father. For Grandmother and Grandfather._ _Anna has a half an hour at best left to be among the living._

“Oh Anna,” he spoke. “If only there was someone out there who loved you.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?” Hans got up and went to the windows. The light was much too bright so he pulled down the curtains. “You said you did.”

Hans stared at her and wondered how her upbringing left her this naïve. It was upsetting, to be honest. Her demise was as much Elsa’s fault as it was her parents. “As thirteenth in line in my own kingdom, I didn’t stand a chance. I knew I’d have to marry into the throne somewhere.” He ignored her as he blew out the candles. He had to stay focused. There was frost spreading on the windows at midday. Unnaturally quickly too. “As heir, Elsa was preferable, of course. But no one was getting anywhere with her. But you-”

“Hans?”

The smoke arose from where the water hit the timber. “You were so desperate for love you were willing to marry me, just like that. I figured, after we married, I’d have to stage a little accident for Elsa. But then she doomed herself, and you were dumb enough to go after her.” _And their parents were dumb enough to keep their first. They had an heir and a spare. Why didn’t they use their spare when the heir was cursed?_ “All that’s left is to kill Elsa and bring back summer.”

Anna lifted her head at him, eyes as cold as the curse enveloping her. “You’re no match for Elsa,” she huffed.

Hans could not help the small smile that formed on his face. He used to say the same thing regarding Klaus but in a much more innocent setting. Racing tournaments. Klaus rode his stallion so well and Hans loved watching his big brother gallop across the yard. “No, you’re no match for Elsa. I, on the other hand, am the hero who is going to save Arendelle from destruction.” He had to or else people will starve and freeze.

Wrenching her face out of his hands, Anna harshly said, “You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh, I already have.” Hans got one last look at the princess before shutting the door behind him, locking it. Anna’s statement was laughable. If Agnarr got away with hiding a witch for a little over two decades then surely Hans’ deeds were less severe. He was merely tying up the loose knots left by Agnarr and Iduna. _It seems they have left their filthy task to me,_ Hans concluded.

He walked down the empty hall to the council chamber, which must have seen more action in the past few days alone than it has in years. Hans paused for a moment to took a deep breath. A somber tone was required of him. He only dreaded having to wear mourning garb afterwards. Black had never been a happy color on Hans.

The first thing he heard upon opening the council chamber’s door was The Duke’s voice raising concern. It pleased Hans that at least one more man actually realized the likelihood of a cold death if something radical was not done soon. He walked in and emulated grief as best he could. _Royal life is a stage and I must be as radiant as the sun. Act like it’s a funeral because it will be one shortly._ “Princess Anna is,” he said, “…dead.”

The dignitaries all gasped as they helped Hans to a chair. The Duke placed a grandfatherly hand on Hans’ shoulder, who sensed an unusual air of melancholic vindication to him. “What happened to her?” asked the old man softly.

“She was killed by Queen Elsa,” he answered candidly. He never raised a hand against the princess, unlike her.

“Her own sister.”

“At least we got to say our marriage vows,” Hans said, “before she died in my arms.” He hung his head. He’d seen enough heartbroken wives to emulate their mannerisms. Their time in the sun clouded by the uncertainty of widowhood always made his skin crawl.

The Duke was not a cruel man, more calculating than anything. He spoke true when his kin were concerned and they, like it or not, shared blood. “There can be no doubt now; Queen Elsa is a monster and we are all in grave danger.”

One of the dignitaries spoke up, “Prince Hans, Arendelle looks to you.”

He nodded as he took in the gazes of these older men, those who experienced wars and marriages and everything Hans had to look forward to in his future. He wondered if this was how his father felt when he became crown prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2019!! I have returned from family holidays and I am very excited to be writing again! Hope you guys had a good new year too!
> 
> Well. This chapter was definitely something. Hans' most iconic line and Flynn talking about Moscow, what more can a person want? Also, don't be surprised if the Westergaard Family seems to grow bigger and bigger with every third chapter because I'm taking a lot of influences from the Romanovs, the Oldenburgs, and the Hanoverians. Fertile houses basically. Meanwhile Arendelle and Corona's monarchs are more similar to the Stuarts and the Tudors, who had trouble with producing enough children.
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for the comments on my last one! They were very sweet and I received them while I suffered from a fever so it was a very nice thing to see in my emails! I don't respond to comments but I appreciate every single one, big or small. So, please tell me what you think of this chapter while I work on the next one!


	21. Chapter 21

Hans grimaced at the storm forming in the middle of the frozen fjord. No doubt the queen was there, acting as the epicenter of this foul weather.

He had many questions swirling around in his head, primarily wondering how Elsa was cursed. One of his history lessons covered the witch hunts that took place a few centuries ago but his tutor explained that witchcraft was a backward superstition of peasants frightened by sudden storms and poor harvests. “Witch hunts tended to occur in weaker states,” the tutor had said. “People believed witches had the power to worsen weather and, as you know, a farmer’s enemy is the cold. How else would he grow his crops? Now, give me the title of the most famous witchcraft treatise ever written and its authors.”

 _Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Springer would have torn their hair by the roots if they saw what I am seeing now._ He had charged Elsa with treason, which he believed justified. She ran off and left her kingdom in a perilous state; irresponsible and incredibly dangerous.

Anna had named him regent and he loved the power that came with the title. However, he could not help but grind his teeth at all the unexpected hurdles he had to suffer. He did not know what the woman’s plan was but her actions would harm Arendelle’s fishing industry for a good while. _I wonder how far her radius of power is. Could she be the reason for the fickle weather in recent times?_

The crystals flecked at his face, the wind burned his cheeks. Hans firmly grasped at the hilt of his sword, a familiar and consoling feeling. Nothing made him feel safer than Sitron by his side and his sword in his hand. The former was safe and warm in the stables (he had seen to that himself) and the latter was beside him.

Hans paid no heed when one of the dignitaries called him greedy and desperate to rise above his station. People said the same of his mother once, after all. If anything, his ambition should be praised. Ambition is what drove men to achieve great feats instead of sitting idly. His family’s claim fundamentally laid in blood ties, yes, but it was his forefathers’ royal aspirations that drove them to secure matches with princes and princesses. Ambition had been nothing but a positive force in his life.

He was not cruel, at least he did not consider himself such. Wife-beating and adultery were cruel, not grand aspirations. Elsa’s condemning them with a winter and effectively killing her own sister was cruel. He may not get along with all of his brothers but he could not imagine murdering them or them murdering him.

The act itself was distant and frankly, not one Hans had ever wanted to commit. He had yet to go to war and was not even alive during the troll slayings, but he often listened to the tales old generals shared when they were present at supper. Most were about victorious battles or lowbrow comments on foreign officers but some were insightful. Hans had heard from one that the key to executing a person without inflicting unnecessary pain was a single swift movement and a sharpened blade.

 _Perhaps that was why the guillotine was invented,_ he pondered.

Hans took a deep breath as it got painful to breathe, what with the cold air cutting the insides of his lungs. He was never a confrontational man. Hans preferred the less showy type of court warfare. The quiet kind, where you scheme and plot behind brittle smiles and cool masks of courtesy. The plan upon arrival was clean and simple: marry one sister and stage an accident for the other. Poison would have done the job just as well. Yet he found himself walking on a sheet of ice with a blade in his hand. _Can’t be that hard, driving a sword through flesh. If it was difficult, there’d be a lot less murders._

The snow, goodness how he despised it, the snow kept hitting his face. Hans could feel his skin angrily itching as the crystals flew and flew and flew. Rider prattled about his dislike of such weather and Hans finally understood why. Winter was lovely so long one was inside by a fireplace or covered in wool and fur.

He thought of Rider again for a moment, curious about his whereabouts, when he saw a dark shadow twisting and turning in front of him as the storm strengthened. For half a heartbeat Hans entertained the idea of stabbing the woman right then and there. Although, she might retaliate _him_ with her wicked icicles, which was enough reason to constrain himself. Luckily, rhetoric came naturally to him. “Elsa,” he called out. “You can’t run from this!”

Elsa turned towards him before backing off. Even before this trouble occurred the prince had been ill at ease with her. Hans was not sure if it was due to the queens he knew being so socially adept or his gut sensing something wicked. The slight when she refused Anna or the hostile glare at his presence near her did not improve his opinion. “Just take care of my sister.”

“Your sister? She returned from the mountain weak and cold. She said you froze her heart.” In another life, perhaps, he and Anna could have had a chance at a happy marriage. Well, if nothing else a functional one. Many couples who wed shortly after meeting remained joyous for years while others simply tolerated each other. This life instead threw Rider, Elsa, and a cursed winter at their direction. Hans simply played with the cards he had been dealt. “I tried to save her, but it was too late. Her skin was ice. Her hair turned white.” An unsettling scene to witness, really. ‘A true love’s kiss’ was a stupid idea. It’d be silly to play pretend with a goner. “Your sister is dead because of you.”

The woman’s face sunk while her knees failed her. Elsa was his junior by a year and a half though her countenance reminded him of a destitute widow at a funeral. The swirling winds halted whilst the snow hung in suspense, similar to their painter counterparts. Hans heard the rushed footsteps of people, murmurs and whispers filled the air.

 _Westergaards are lions, not mice,_ he reminded himself as he drew his sword, his favorite, from its scabbard. He was not sure what to put on display, a stern expression or one of grief, when all he felt was the flood of relief as the storm stopped and its mistress laid in front of him. Hans raised his sword high above his head and thought, _she looks like one of the training dummies in the yard, doesn’t she?_

The training dummies never shattered any of his weapons though.

-

Eugene was separated from the red-haired bastard for several hours and already so much had happened. With the sun warming his cold skin, he wondered if that Elsa girl was dead. If so, then hurray for all of them for finally putting this shitty chapter to a close. Eugene would have also liked to be on actual land, but unfortunately, he did not notice how he was on the fjord rather than the port.

His heart beat like a war drum when he made it to the ship’s side. The rope was hard and bristly underneath his hands but served its purpose well as he pulled himself up with no major issues. “Red!” Eugene exclaimed moments before falling onto the deck. Hans, for his part, rubbed at his chest, as if in pain, and Eugene did not like that at all. “Red, you okay? What the fuck happened? I was gone for only an hour or something like that and so much, so much had happened! Fuck I’m out of breath.” He lifted his head and saw the princess, the (not dead) queen, and the freak all stare at him like he’s the mad one. “Hello. You’re here.”

The queen blinked, her mouth worked silently before everyone’s attention turned to Hans, who muttered in his native speech. Eugene took note of the shaking hand that held the hilt of a broken sword, only the tiniest piece of metal remained. A look of _inappropriate_ confusion flashed across his face before it was hidden by good manners. “Anna?” His pretty green eyes winced. “But she froze your heart.”

Anna’s face was hard, judgmental even. “The only frozen heart around here is yours.” She looked proud of her words while the prince observed her. Eugene also watched her, gasped when he saw her hand forming into a fist.

Eugene nearly doubled over himself as he pulled Hans to his side and, more importantly, away from the girl’s flying punch. “Hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? Do you even realize how much bullshit my guy over here had to go through while you were gone?”

“He tried to kill me!” Elsa exclaimed.

“And me!” Anna said and looked over at the reindeer man, who sized Hans up with venomous eyes.

“I didn’t try to kill you!” Hans snapped. “You came to the castle with one foot already in a grave. Might I remind you that it was not I who did that to you!”

“Hans, easy,” Eugene said. He spent enough time on the road to know an injury when he saw one, and with the way the prince’s chest heaved Eugene hoped that all the ribs were fine. He snapped his fingers and turned at the women. “I won’t pretend that I know the situation here. I don’t. What I do know is that Prince Hans fed your citizens and kept their hope up while the Milkma- I mean Her Majesty ditched her own kingdom and Stripy,” Hans kicked his leg, “the Princess ran after her with no entourage or a plan.” He shifted his attention to the big man. “I don’t know who you are and I’m not interested.”

Hans stepped forward. “We can continue this discussion on dry land, where we will be able to employ the services of a law book. Authorities use such tools to govern their lands but I can’t judge you for not knowing.” Eugene caught a smile lurking at the corner of Hans’ mouth, a brittle smile to accompany his waspish words. “The Duke of Weselton was kind enough to write to the past regent of Arendelle in your absence. It’d be wise to involve him. Hopefully he can clean up the mess you created. I’m sure His Serene Highness has a lot to say as well.”

Eugene balled his own hands into fists when the coarse countryman puffed up his chest but stopped when the queen raised her hand, stopping him. “So much must have happened while I was gone.”

“Indeed,” said Hans. “The most horrid things come about when the monarch is not only incompetent but unredeemed as well. We’ll have to wait a few days for the honorable lord to arrive so, for his sake, see to it that you do not disappoint him. I shall also be presentable.”

Hans showed them the shoulder and moved away. The princess turned to her sister and began to comfort her, warm smiles and all. Eugene ignored them. He may not be of royal stock nor did he spend his life watching court politics but he knew Hans. And he knew he was upset. Eugene approached him, handing a shard of broken steel.

The prince’s brows raised, as if surprised, but then he smiled. “Thank you,” Hans said. “I liked this sword a lot. It was a gift.”

“From whom and what occasion?”

Hans grinned at the fragment. “If my memory serves me well it would have been my eighteenth birthday. A present from my brother Joseph; he had it made specially for my hand.”

“I stole mine,” Eugene said with a smirk. Experience taught him that there was nothing a good tale could not fix. “I think I was fifteen when it caught my eye and I took it for myself on the night before my sixteenth birthday.” He hummed. “So, what’s going to happen? To you, I mean.”

Hans shrugged. He gestured at the port and Eugene followed his hand. The bridge and the entire port were filled with laughing and cheering masses. Only seven people did not share the mood and it were Hans’ circle, the Equis pair, and Weselton. “I won’t die, I know that. And I won’t be put in a humiliating position either else my family would raise hell. At the end of the day, we are a unit. The dignitaries, on the other hand, are a cause of concern because they’re petty. Although I’d like to see them try and cold-shoulder me. Won’t happen. Not when I have three of royal birth supporting me.” His frown deepened, his voice sounded tighter. “It’s those common singing peasants who vex me the most. Will they forget my service now that their precious little queen and princess have returned?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to the tutor's question would be the 'Malleus Maleficarum' published in 1487 by Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Springer. There's a fun fact for you guys!
> 
> One of the things that bothered me the most in Frozen is the three year gap between the death of King Agnarr and Queen Iduna and Elsa's coronation. I doubt that the overseer acted as Elsa's regent, either he's not educated enough or is of too low birth, so perhaps an older relative higher up the branch took the responsibility upon themselves.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was very interesting to write. I personally don't consider Hans to be a cruel person by nature but I do think it was highly likely that he was brought up to do whatever it takes to succeed. Wouldn't be a stretch to me if his parents/grandparents raised him to be more ruthless so he could survive in the insane world that is aristocracy. The things people did to win favor from the monarch, marry into a more noble family, gain titles... it's manic!
> 
> And god I just want Eugene to get a good long break after this whole Arendelle affair is over. The man just wants to drink ungodly amounts of booze, have fun, and not face his insecurities regarding his identity yet he is tangled up in the bullshittery of the nobility. Again, I am so sad that this fic doesn't let me explore him in a setting more natural to him. At the end of the day chandeliers, caviar, and champagne (with a dash of espionage) is Hans' natural habitat, not Eugene's.
> 
> I hope you guys enoyed this chapter! I'm going to have a one week break from uni soon so hopefully the next chapter will be up quicker but in the meantime please leave a comment telling me what you think! I'm not responsive like some other writers but these comments mean the world to me!


	22. Chapter 22

Eugene smiled at Hans once he came back. The poor man had been swarmed by nobles who supported him and very much disliked the queen; every day they trapped Hans in some drawing room for hours to discuss whatever their kind discussed. By the time Hans returned to their shared room at the guesthouse the moon was high in the sky.

“You look awful,” Eugene said. “I thought you fell off the pier and drowned. What took you so long?” Hans ignored him, instead choosing to collapse upon their bed. The two were silent and neither cared to begin talking. Eugene tapped his thumb against his hand whilst Hans stared out the window. It was a cloudless spring night with the moon shining like a lantern, a perfect night to burgle a home or ambush some poor soul on the highway. “You should undress. Your coat was meant for winter, wasn’t it?”

Hans shrugged. He turned to lay on his back, lifted his right arm, and just looked at his hand. “I’m cold. And I’m homesick. I didn’t realize how often I am at home in Konigsburg before coming to this godforsaken land.”

“I wouldn’t know. I spent fourteen years living in an orphanage before going out to explore the great big world.” The caretaker cried the day Eugene left. Lance wanted to run way and never look back but he did not have the heart to simply abandon the woman who raised him. “To be honest, the orphanage I grew up in was kinda shitty. The walls were so thin we could hear everything that happened next door and the cracked windows would never completely close. I was stupid and managed to rip all two of my shirts in one month, which meant I was dressed in an old flour sack for weeks.”

“Your childhood sounds awful,” commented Hans, his pretty face twisting into a grimace. “A flour sack? Really?”

Eugene’s smile grew wider. Of all the terrible things he had described, Hans was most disturbed by his threadbare outfit. He was not surprised, not at all. Any idiot who spent a single hour with Hans could tell that he was very concerned with cleanliness and appearance. He was vainer than a cat even. “Really. One of the older girls, Nora, cut and sewed my giant sack into a shirt-like garment. And the head caretaker was loving. I continue to check up on her, every now and then, just to calm my mind. She even kept the clothes I had on the day my parents left me. The younger kids wore them once I got too big.”

“She seems nice.”

“She is nice. Maybe you can meet her one day.” He frowned at Hans’ suppressed snort. “What? She is to me what Karl is to you so show some respect!”

Hans’ shook his head and sat up on the bed. “It’s not that. You never open up and suddenly you’re speaking of the future. It’s a sudden change. Usually you’re regaling the grand adventures of the infamous Flynn Rider, the legendary thief who broke into King Trevor’s palace. The most well-guarded one on the Continent! Since when do thieves and cutthroats such as him speak of domesticity, mhm?”

Eugene considered that question. “You’re the one to talk. You value prestige over family.”

“Family _is_ prestige,” Hans said indignantly. “One would have to be a truly remarkable person to get by without a good lineage attached and that goes for everyone.” He paused for a moment, pondering. “One of Klaus’ courtiers is an illegitimate son, without a name and without means, but his lord father favors him dearly. I hear when the old lord goes to heaven, his bastard will inherit the name, the lands, and the titles. I do wonder how many men will start throwing their daughters at him once that occurs.” He chuckled.

He did not understand what exactly Hans found funny, but he did not understand a lot of high-brow things the prince participated in and liked. Eugene thought waltzes were silly and ‘proper introductions’ stupid. He pretended to enjoy tea time, politics, and gossip only because the island folk liked them.

As Hans pleasantly wondered aloud about which lord will force his daughter onto the bastard, Eugene fiddled with the room keys. Something about Hans’ social circles made him uneasy. Eugene knew that he had friends that were closer to Eugene’s sort. Hans’ much beloved butler Karl was born to palatial servants and the two guards were common. _I never got royal approval to be around princes and princesses though._

“I hear your parents will be arriving soon,” Eugene said. “Should I worry about losing my head?”

“I doubt that. They’ve bigger issues to attend to than to deal with a thief. I’m certain Father will appear and I hope Mother will as well. The dignitaries ought to prepare themselves for her. She is rather sprightly for a woman of her age. Not as much as The Duke of Weselton but she most definitely is lively. You should know, considering what happened.” Hans suddenly blushed crimson and struggled with the next part. “I am sorry for Mother’s harshness. She’s a very proud lady and never took well to being undermined. Let alone by a continental blackguard.”

Eugene huffed. The Queen would be like that, of course. She had been the most important woman in her country for longer than he’d been alive. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard your dad talk. I was thrown into the dungeons under your mother’s orders.”

Hans reflected a bit and got up from the bed. He unlocked one of the drawers of the desk and pulled out something lustrous. Hans sat closer to him, showing him a silver snuffbox with a portrait on it. “My father is reserved by nature. He does have his moments though. I received this from him when I completed my formal schooling.”

“Your father wanted you to smoke?” Eugene raised a brow. This little gift did not align with his image of the King. From what he had heard, the island sovereign was morally upright and annoyingly so since Hans, a man in his fucking twenties, wanted nothing to do with women of the streets.

And his remark did not bring a smile to Hans’ face. He was punished with a light push, actually. “Don’t be ridiculous. I keep fruit drops here. Father threatened to cane me if I abused tobacco, an useless threat to be frank. He simply knew I liked the one my uncle had so he commissioned this one to be made for me. Look,” he gave Eugene the box, “that’s the two of us together. I believe I’m seven years old in this portrayal; Father’s in his forties.” He made a gesture with his hand. “Father is not like The Duke at all. He’s stoic and he’s austere but he’s good, if slightly riddled with his own issues.”

“Aren’t we all riddled with our own issues? You’re obviously unhappy with your station and want to climb higher. Margarethe wrecks herself about not finding a suitable groom. I think Valentin has a personal agenda against trolls yet I can’t quite pinpoint why,” he spoke with a grin. “Even I have my share of troubling thoughts that keep me up at night.”

Hans smirked, “Not being the richest man on the Mainland, perhaps?”

“Perhaps!” whispered Eugene, grabbing Hans’ lily-white hands and laughing. A few days had past since the whole winter situation was sorted and the entire city was tenser than duel. It was good to see Hans actually revel a bit.

Once the laughter quieted down, both of them dressed down to their nightwear and had gotten into bed. Hans looked and acted drained, yet he still had enough energy to build the barrier of pillows dividing them. One that did not go unnoticed by Eugene too. He had hoped that Hans would have forgotten the concerns the Equis girl planted in his head but Eugene should have known better.

-

Hans missed this. He missed talking freely to Rider and he had had enough of courtly nonsense to last him until his birthday. Hans had no opportunity to spare his musings towards the man lately, what with the storms and magic and some nettlesome hermit with a reindeer uttering intentions of injury towards him. _What was his name again? Kristian?_ The man and his hideous creature did teach Hans one thing and that was how lucky he was to have a cultured companion in Rider.

He knew Rider disliked it when he discoursed politics and religion with whomever caught his attention but the man had the decency to hide his boredom. In return, Hans feigned ignorance at Rider’s ridiculously inflated tales and the whole charade that occurred prior with fanciful tales of going to the orphanage.

It was a nice idea. It genuinely was a good idea but Hans would be lying if he said he could just brush off what happened in the castle. Hans was upset. He had shared his interests and opinions with an individual who presented himself falsely. It was one thing to put on a mask, it was entirely different to hide everything what made a man himself and share nothing but lies. And Hans refused to be someone’s passing fancy, a toy to be played with until a more interesting persona showed up. Yet at the same time he couldn’t help enjoying himself in the man’s company. Rider was easy to talk to about whatever crossed his mind, much to his dismay and delight.

“Red. I can hear you thinking,” Rider’s voice piped in, breaking the train of depressing thoughts. Hans frowned, curling further away from him. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Westergaards were to keep a stiff upper lip and not have their heads in the clouds where they could hurt their feelings. “Red.”

“Go to sleep.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, I will forcefully drag that countryman’s deer into the premises and release him.”

Eyes rolling, he sighed. Valentin would shoot the thing and then he’ll have more lackwit fools to handle. “Would I be correct in presuming,” Hans began, “that Princess Louise spoke truthfully?” He knew Louise’s suggestions were correct. He now wanted a confirmation.

The winds sang outside their window, a cool breeze of air rushed in and Hans wrapped the covers tighter around himself. He nearly flinched when he felt Rider’s rough calloused hand stroke his arm. “Flynn Rider is a better man that I could ever be.”

Hans sighed. “From what Louise told me, Flynnigan Rider is a reckless, impetuous, and an irresponsible person. I understand the appeal he might have to a child but you’re twenty-six years old.”

“Hey now. I’m twenty-five years old. Get that right” Hans stamped down his smile before turning to face Rider with a look bland and serious. “What? Every year counts.”

“Don’t change the subject. And keep your hands to yourself. I don’t want them wandering over onto my side of the bed.” Rider looked solemnly at Hans. He continued to stare straight at him as he slowly but surely took down the wall Hans had built from pillows. “Rider.”

“Fitzherbert, actually.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rider, Fitzherbert, the man pursed his lips in discomfort. He laid on his back, annoyingly avoided Hans’ eyes. The thief took a deep breath and said, “You were upset because you assumed that I was lying to you, which I was and was not. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t have a silver tongue like you.” He shut up, his brows furrowed and he grinded his teeth. “Flynn Rider is a confident, adventurous man who needs nothing and no one. Eugene Fitzherbert was, or is, an insecure kid who cried for three days straight when he came to terms with the harsh fact that he’ll never be adopted. That he’ll grow out of the system unwanted. You might as well know, since your mama will have my head.”

“No one will have your head; would you calm down for five minutes?” It was a lot to take in and Hans had no idea how to respond politely. The etiquette books never covered such topics. He must have been quiet for a while, as… Eugene Fitzherbert scraped his throat. Hans did not even realize that he had shot up and sat straight and tall. He glanced back down at his companion, awkwardly offering, “Eugene is a good name. I’ve a relative with a variation of it. Do you know it means well-born? How nice is that?” Hans had always liked it when others complimented him on his name, he hoped Fly-Eugene would like it too.

Eugene blinked, then a grin widened across his face. “Thank you? I thought you’d dislike it.”

Hans shook his head, thankful for the tension slowly waning. He brushed the tussled hair out of his eye and replied, “A perfectly good name! Now if you were named after,” he gesticulated, “after a salad or a vegetable, then I’d have issues. I met a Eugene once, a tall handsome fellow from the United Kingdom. From a city called Portsmouth.” That fellow ended up being shot and killed in a duel but Hans did not need to mention that unsavory part.

“Speaking of names, Margarethe told me that you have more than one.” Hans looked at him and nodded. Some nobility had one, some had multiple. House Westergaard usually had three given names for its members. “Mind sharing them with me?”

He searched his face, a tad unsure. Eugene, which still had an odd ring to his ears, had a habit of mocking aristocratic habits and Hans was fond of his parents’ choices for him. “I should think not. You’ll certainly tease me, I can tell.” He really did like his names and it would obliterate him if that clever commoner of his tore them to shreds mockery. “My family entitled me after our patrician ancestors. You probably know that those of gentle blood love to use the same names for everyone.”

“Oh!” said Eugene. “Margarethe did mention that you rich people like to recycle them even if you can afford to call yourself something new…Maybe you can tell me what Hans means? Since you know the definition of my name, which is hilarious! Well-born? I reckon I was conceived to a harlot and a soldier, an officer if I’m lucky.”

Before Hans had the time to voice his appreciation of Eugene’s earnest question, he began to laugh again and was unable to stop. Eugene smirked, playfully ruffled Hans’ hair and demanded an explanation for his unexpected good mood. Hans covered his mouth with his hand (as was proper) but Eugene pried it off and asked again. “From the minute I saw you in the throne room, swaggering like a rooster in a hen house, _in front of my parents no less!_ ” Hans twisted himself free from Eugene’s grip, shoulders shaking. “I imagined you belonged to a Continental milliner, and that your confidence was fueled by past mercury poisoning. Mercury in its purest form! I’m so sorry I never even entertained the possibility that you could be a lusty officer’s wine child or a strumpet’s misfortune.”

“You just looked at me and immediately came to the conclusion that I’m as mad as a hatter,” Eugene stated, quite tongue-in-cheek. “The only normal cause to my self-esteem was obviously mercury poisoning. Terrible, horrible mercury poisoning. I hear all of history’s greatest and surefooted thieves were all high off their minds either on opium or mercury,” he finished with a sly and significant look.

Even the best educated and well raised men were subject to humor and he was no exception. Hans pushed Eugene off him and, grinning brightly and desperately trying to breathe, exclaimed, “I apologized, didn’t I? Now be useful for once and please fetch me water or else I’ll die!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think I have a clever sense of humor or at the very least be able to it write it. I don't think I do but I hope so!
> 
> Happy first day of spring! I hope your February was a nice one! I managed to survive my midterms (thank goodness) so now I wait for my results! I hope you guys liked this chapter; it is nice to break away from the plot and focus back on these two idiots. :D 
> 
> My writing probably made it clear that there will be no intentionally abusive Westergaards but I'll repeat it again since it'll be useful in future chapters. Behind the scenes, I've developed such a family life for Hans and his brothers that that kind of attitude had to be chucked out the window. Sure, the Westergaard parents aren't as open and forthcoming with their love for their children like the King and Queen of Corona but they're still their parents. I know this is different to the commonly accepted view but I've built this hill for and by myself and I will die on it.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter as much I enjoyed writing it and please leave a comment telling me what you think!


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